


carve our place into time and space

by elizaham8957



Series: find me where the wild things are [3]
Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Drabble Collection, F/M, Fluff, Modern AU, Tumblr Prompts, set in the WTWTA universe
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-02
Updated: 2021-01-27
Packaged: 2021-03-06 18:07:18
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 22
Words: 18,898
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26243137
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/elizaham8957/pseuds/elizaham8957
Summary: A collection of drabbles set in the Where the Wild Things Are Universe.
Relationships: Jon Snow/Daenerys Targaryen
Series: find me where the wild things are [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1581247
Comments: 661
Kudos: 694





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hey y'all! 
> 
> I reblogged a prompt thing on tumblr and ended up writing a bunch of WTWTA drabbles, so I figured I'd post them here as well. I will add more as I write them, and I might add some things in for the seasonal Instagram posts I made for twitter as well! 
> 
> These are all unedited, as I wrote most of them in twenty minutes during my lunch break. Please feel free to point out any typos and I will fix them, lol. 
> 
> Thanks for reading! :)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 12\. “Am I your lockscreen?” “You weren’t supposed to see that.”

“Jon,” Dany calls, walking out of her kitchen wearing only his t-shirt. “Margaery wants to know what the response was to your post yesterday.”

Jon turns his head where he’s seated on her couch, coffee cup still in hand. At his feet, Rhageal is attempting to groom Ghost, much to his poor dog’s bewilderment.

“You’re not supposed to be workin’ on the weekend, you know,” he teases her. She pouts at him, a hand coming to her hip, and Jon can’t help the way his eyes linger where the shirt has ridden up, revealing more of her creamy thighs.

“Well, until I actually fill the two positions on my team, here we are,” she says, leaning over the back of the couch to kiss him. “Could I have your phone, please?”

“I do remember how to pull up insights myself, you know,” he says, already handing his phone over to her. She walks around to take the seat next to him, giving him an amused little smirk.

“Of course you do,” she says, arching an eyebrow in a way that suggests she does not believe him in the slightest.

Jon takes a sip of his coffee, Dany typing away at her own phone before she awakens his. But then she freezes, blinking at it for a moment in surprise.

“Am I your lockscreen?” she asks, and Jon blanches.

Oh. _Shit._ He forgot he did that.

“Er,” he says, looking over at the device Dany’s holding up. His wallpaper has always been Ghost before, but now it’s a selfie of the two of them she’s taken a week ago in Dorne, their last day when they’d had lunch up in the mountains. Jon’s head is turned into hers, lips pressed to her cheek, so really it’s only Dany’s face that’s visible.

“Yes?” he continues. “Is that okay?” He really hopes it is. He’d made Arya replace it for him, and he hasn’t the slightest idea how to change it back.

“Of course it is,” she says, and then her eyes meet his, her cheeks flushed just a bit, a little grin pulling at her lips. It’s that way she’d looked at him right before she told him she loved him. That way that takes his breath away every time, reminds him he’s the luckiest bastard in the world.

“I’m just surprised,” she confesses, eyes twinkling. “I replaced _Ghost.”_

At his name, his dog sits up, Rhaegal leaping back at the sudden movement. Ghost turns to face Dany, nosing at the phone in her hand, almost like he’s looking at it. The way his head turns to Jon afterwards, eyes wide with betrayal, almost suggests that he _knows_ what his owner’s done.

“Oh no!” Dany says, turning off the phone, giggling. “Oh, Ghost, you weren’t supposed to see that.”

He whines, pushing his head into Jon’s lap, and Jon can’t help but laugh as well.

“Don’t worry boy,” he says, stroking Ghost’s silky ears. “You’re still my home screen, y’know.”

[](https://www.flickr.com/photos/146793737@N07/50314605771/in/dateposted-public/)


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 16\. Kisses Meant To Distract The Other Person From Whatever They Were Intently Doing
> 
> (if you want to send me prompts, I'm still taking them for the next day or two on my tumblr, which is stilesssolo!)

There’s really no point, Dany thinks, to having Jon still come in for sponsorship meetings now that he spends about eighty percent of his time at her apartment. She’s not exactly mad about getting to see him more during the day, but there is a definitive downside-- having him around is _distracting._

Dany chews on her lip as she scrolls through emails, Jon typing out a post on his phone for Margaery’s new marketing campaign she’d looped him into. Her office is comfortably quiet, the only sound the clicking of her nails against her desktop. She’s trying to stay focused, but it’s very hard with her boyfriend sitting so close to her.

All those fantasies and daydreams from months ago-- well, they’re even more distracting now that she knows what the real thing is like.

She sneaks a glance over at Jon, the way his brows are pinched together as he focuses on whatever he’s writing. She exhales slowly, letting her eyes skate over him, her heart thumping at how bloody handsome he looks, without even trying.

It’s infuriating, really.

Dany turns back to her email, determined to focus while he finishes his posts. She wants to be able to leave on the earlier side today, and that’s only a possibility if she finishes up all her work first. She reads over what Loras had just sent her for the third time, determined to actually comprehend it this time.

Somehow, she’s successful in tuning Jon out this time, whipping through her emails, firing back responses while he’s occupied with his own work. Maybe she really _will_ get to go home early today. 

“Dany,” she hears, but she holds up a manicured finger to silence Jon, trying to finish typing out her email before she’s _distracted_ by him again and loses her train of thought. He waits, patiently, while she types.

Until she hears the distinctive sound of something hitting her carpeted floor. 

Dany’s eyes flick over to Jon, whose phone is off and on her desk, unlike her pen jar-- its contents are scattered all over the floor. 

“Jon,” she says, eyes going back to her computer. “Don’t distract me.” 

“You’re ignorin’ me,” he teases, pushing at her stack of her post-it notes until it too falls to the ground. 

“And you’re acting like one of my cats,” she says, arching her eyebrow, gaze still fixed on her screen. 

“I thought you liked it when I cleared off your desk?” he says, standing and walking until he’s behind her, arms caging her in, his mouth right by her ear. She rolls her eyes, though she can’t help herself from leaning back into his touch. 

“I should have never told you about that,” she responds primly. Truly, confessing the details of her sex dream to Jon _may_ have been a bit of an oversight on her part. Especially the way he’d swept everything off it before laying her down on the cool glass surface.

“C’mon, Dany,” he murmurs, breath warm against her neck. A shiver races down her spine, her belly filling with heat just like it did all those months ago from Jon’s imagined touch. 

Gods, she’s terrible at resisting him. 

She turns in his arms, and the glint in his gorgeous eyes is victorious as he leans down, capturing her lips in a hungry kiss. 

“When I get home late because of this, I want you to know it’s entirely your fault,” she whispers into his mouth, but Jon just laughs, lifting her up, shoving the rest of her things off her desk so he can lower her down onto it, stepping into the space between her spread legs. 

“Gods, I’m so grateful you finally got blinds for your windows,” he says, kissing her again hungrily. 

“Just for you,” she tells him, and Jon groans as he coaxes her lips open, tongue sliding against hers in a way that makes her toes curl, fingers fisting in his shirt. 

Yes, she supposes, working late will be worth it for this. 

[](https://www.flickr.com/photos/146793737@N07/50314783932/in/dateposted-public/)


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 4\. “Oh you’re jealous!”

“Dany?” Jon calls, closing the apartment door behind him, before leaning over to unclip Ghost’s leash. “We’re back.”

She doesn’t answer, and his brow furrows at her silence, following his dog down the hall to the living room. They’d only been gone for a few minutes so he could let Ghost out— she didn’t leave, did she?

He finds his girlfriend still sitting on the sofa where he left her, scrolling through his phone, her lips turned down in a frown. “Hey,” Jon says, but she doesn’t look up, eyes still glued to the device in her hand. He knows he shouldn’t have asked her to, because he _hates_ being the reason she has to do more work, but Margaery had wanted him to do some thing on Ghost’s account that he’d had _no_ idea how to do, and he hadn’t wanted to listen to Arya’s teasing about his lack of social media skills for the rest of the week, so he’d given it to Dany, and now—

“Your DMs,” she says, finally looking at him, “are _horrifying.”_

Jon blinks at her, confused. “Er... my what?” he asks, taking a seat on the sofa between her and Ghost.

“Your direct messages,” she says, and when she meets his gaze, he’s bewildered by the irritation in her eyes.

“Oh,” he says, even though that still doesn’t entirely clear up his confusion. Did he do something to make her look so angry? He doesn’t even know what his bloody messages _are_ , so how could he have?

“Uh, I’m sorry?” he tries, but Dany just rolls her eyes, worrying her bottom lip as she focuses back on the screen.

“Honestly,” she mutters, and it sounds like it’s more to herself than to him. “Don’t these people have any _decency?_ Coming into the direct messages of someone who runs an instagram for a _dog_ and fawning all over them, as if they have any _chance—”_

Jon’s brow furrows, his brain playing catch up as he fully comprehends what she’s saying, before he leans over to survey the phone screen, see what’s made her so mad.

Realization hits him like a freight train then, staring at the rows of messages from girls, most trailed by heart emojis.

“Oh,” Jon says, relaxing. “You’re _jealous.”_

Dany looks at him sharply, brows even more pinched. “I am _not!”_ she says hotly, but the indignation in her gorgeous eyes makes him laugh. Which, in all honesty, is probably a bad move, as it just makes Dany look _more_ pissed off.

“Love,” Jon says, taking the phone from her hand, cupping her cheek. “Trust me, you have nothin’ to be worried about.”

She softens at that, eyes cast downwards. “I know,” she admits, glancing up at him through her lashes. “Still. Sometimes it’s hard sharing you with a bunch of very attractive strangers on the internet.”

That makes him laugh even more, pulling her into his lap, trailing kisses across her jaw. Dany sighs contently, melting into his touch, and he can practically feel her jealousy fade away.

“If it makes you feel better,” Jon murmurs against her lips, “I don’t even know how to get to my direct messages.”

Dany laughs, kissing him again. “Mm. _Much_ better.”

[](https://www.flickr.com/photos/146793737@N07/50313934153/in/dateposted-public/)


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 7\. “Do you even still love me?”

“Are you still not speakin’ to me?”

Dany rolls her eyes, keeping her arms crossed as she stares ahead out the windshield. “I’m not _not speaking_ to you,” she corrects. “I’m just not necessarily happy with you right now.”

“I said I was sorry,” Jon defends, but even out of the corner of her eye, she can see how _completely_ unapologetic he looks.

“Mm, you seem very remorseful,” she says. Jon sighs, but she catches him trying to fight back a grin as he drives.

“It won’t be that bad,” he promises, but Dany rolls her eyes again.

“I find that highly unlikely,” she rebuts. “You realize what you’re doing to me, right?” She gestures at the jersey she’s wearing, Jon glancing away from the road for just a moment. “Making me suffer through a championship game for my team in a _room full of Direwolves fans?”_

Jon has the decency to look sheepish, at least. When they’d found out the Wolves were playing her Dragons in the finals, he had promised they wouldn’t have to watch any of the series with his avid-North-supporter friends. Not even two games in, he’s already going back on his word.

“It’s going to be awful,” Dany repeats. “Either my team does well and beats the fucking Wolves— which they _will_ , for the record— and Grenn and Edd spend the whole night screaming angrily at the television, or the Wolves by some miracle win, and I have to endure all their teasing.” She huffs as Jon pulls onto Sam’s street. “And I can’t even get drunk to drown it out,” she laments. “Seriously, Jon. Do you even still love me?”

“Dany,” he says, putting the car in park in his friend’s driveway. “Come on, of course I do.”

“I don’t know,” she says, but the kicked-puppy look in Jon’s eyes makes her relent a little, her tone becoming teasing. “You’re going to make me, the woman you claim to love, the person you went and married, the _mother of your child_ suffer through this.” She shakes her head as Jon opens the car door, coming around to her hers for her. She’s only five months pregnant, so generally she rolls her eyes at his overattentive chivalry, but he deserves the extra work right now, she thinks.

“I am,” he says, bowing his head. “And when the Dragons win you can rub it in Edd and Grenn’s faces to your heart’s content.”

“Fine,” she says, letting Jon help her out of the car. He leans over to kiss her cheek, one of his hands resting on the swell of her belly protectively. “But if anyone gives us a Wolves jersey for our future child, I’m burning it.”

Jon laughs, taking her hand. “I would expect nothin’ less.”

[](https://www.flickr.com/photos/146793737@N07/50313934128/in/dateposted-public/)


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Based on the International Cat Day insta posts I put on tumblr last year.

Gods, she’s really doing this. 

Dany looks at the three little bundles of fluff curled up on her living room chair. Even all piled together they’re so  _ tiny  _ she can hardly believe it. It had been such a whim, a decision she probably hadn’t entirely thought out. But Missandei had made one joking comment about her becoming a crazy cat lady, and well— here she is. 

The mother of three kittens.

It’s sort of hard to fathom, that she’s responsible for these three little lives now. But as daunting as that is, Dany is excited. She already loves them with all of her heart. These three little darlings. She’s going to take care of them and be there for them and they’re going to love her, no matter what. 

Dany exhales, her heart racing, but for once, it’s not because of dread. It’s been a year since she moved to King’s Landing, took this job, but for the first time since then, she feels a bit like herself again. 

Drogon lifts his little head, opening one blurry eye to peer at her, and Dany smiles. 

These three are going to make her life so much better, she just knows it. 

[ ](https://www.flickr.com/photos/146793737@N07/50296696982/in/dateposted-public/)

“Rhaegal,  _ stop,”  _ Dany chides, but it does little to deter her silver cat from meowing at her again. 

“Love, you know I have to get this done.” Rhaegal ignores her, walking across her keyboard instead. Dany laughs as she shoos him off her laptop. Hopefully he didn’t accidentally send the email she’d been drafting. 

“I know, I know,” Dany says, scratching behind his ears, fingers sinking into his thick, fluffy fur. “You lead a tough life, truly.” 

A year now, she’s had these three. It’s still one of the best decisions she’s ever made. 

Rhaegal hops daintily onto the end table, sitting and staring at her with his pale green eyes. His tail flicks back and forth, dangerously close to knocking over the lamp. 

“You look like you could be a model, you know,” Dany says, eyeing him as she finishes typing out another sentence. He meows again, clearly sick of her not paying enough attention to him. 

Finally, Dany concedes, closing her laptop and lifting Rhaegal into her lap. “Alright,  _ fine,”  _ she says, smothering him with kisses as he purrs like an engine. “I suppose this email can wait a  _ little  _ longer.” 

[ ](https://www.flickr.com/photos/146793737@N07/50296539236/in/dateposted-public/)

“Jon,” Dany whispers, standing stock-still in the doorway to the living room.  _ “Jon.”  _

“What?” he says, appearing behind her. She nudges him with her shoulder to quiet him; one of his hands goes to her waist habitually. 

“Look!” she says, nodding towards the scene before them. 

There, on the couch, Ghost and Drogon are curled up together, Drogon methodically grooming Ghost’s muzzle. 

“Holy shit,” he breathes, eyes going wide as well. “I— are we sure that’s truly Drogon?” 

“Of course it is,” Dany says, rolling her eyes. “I’d know my baby anywhere. But see, I  _ told  _ you!” 

“Wonders never cease,” Jon laments. “I guess they  _ don’t  _ hate each other.” 

“Some of the time, at least,” Dany says, pulling out her phone to snap a picture. 

“What are you doin’?” he asks, head leaning into hers, resting against it. 

“We need photographic evidence of this,” Dany tells him. “So that the next time Drogon goes back to acting like having to live with Ghost is the worst thing that’s ever happened to him, we can look back on this glorious memory, and remember what almost was.” 

[ ](https://www.flickr.com/photos/146793737@N07/50296539231/in/dateposted-public/)

Dany can’t find their daughter anywhere. 

Jon had taken both Ghost and Shadow out for a long walk when she couldn’t get the baby down for his nap— somehow he’s an even fussier sleeper, now that he’s past a year. But walks through the park in the stroller always seem to calm him, so Jon had clipped leashes on both dogs, plopped their son in his stroller, and kissed her cheek with a parting promise of at least an hour of quiet time to herself. 

It had been bliss, at the beginning, but now Dany’s beginning to realize it’s  _ too  _ quiet. 

“Aly?” Dany calls, closing her laptop and scratching Drogon’s head quickly before she stands. “Where’d you go, love?” 

Generally prolonged amounts of silence means their four year old has gotten herself into no good— like the time she’d taken it upon herself to “repaint” her walls with Sharpies. But this time, as Dany walks into the living room, what she finds doesn’t horrify her. 

Instead her heart melts, taking in her daughter sprawled out on the sofa, Viserion draped over her as her little hands stroke his fur. 

“Hey, baby,” Dany says, smiling as she crouches down next to them. Alysanne’s eyes, just like her fathers’, flutter open. 

“You being gentle with Viserion?” she asks, even though there’s really no need. Her cat is purring like mad, nuzzling closer into Aly. 

“Always, mumma,” Aly answers sleepily, smiling at Viserion. Dany strokes his ears, then smooths back Aly’s curls, heart squeezing as she watches the two of them. 

She’d never thought her cats would love anyone more than they love her, but that was before they met her daughter. 

[ ](https://www.flickr.com/photos/146793737@N07/50296696922/in/dateposted-public/)


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 32\. “I could punch you right now.”

“Don’t get mad,” Jon says as soon as she picks up the phone, and already, Dany is exhausted.

“What did you do?” she says, pushing aside her lunch. She’d been eating while working through press releases in an attempt to leave early, but now, she’s not sure she wants to anymore.

“It’s not... _bad,”_ her husband assures her, but Dany finds that very hard to believe.

“Really?” she asks. “Because it sounds like, from your tone of voice, Aly tried to dye her hair blue again.”

“No, no,” Jon says. “Everyone still has their natural hair colors. The house is in one piece, and the kids are fine.”

“Okay,” Dany says, suspicious. “Then what happened?”

Jon hesitates, and Dany’s stomach sinks. “Well, er, we took a drive up to Rosby this morning,” he says, and now she’s even _more_ bloody confused.

“Did the car break down?” she asks, realization hitting her. “Shit, Jon, I have too much work to come pick you up.”

“No, the car’s fine,” he assures her. Dany blinks.

“What did you do in Rosby, then?”

Another silence from her husband. “We, er... adopted another dog?”

He says it like a question, and Dany groans, forehead hitting the table.

“What the fuck, Jon?” she says, waving off Shireen as she appears in her doorway, wide-eyed. _Later_ , she mouths to her assistant. “What do you mean you adopted another dog?”

“Well, someone sent Ghost’s account a post, and there was a low-content wolf dog stuck in a high-kill shelter there, and they wanted to see if we could help,” Jon says in a rush. “He’s very sweet, love, and he and Ghost got along great, and he’s good with kids—”

“Jon,” she says, cutting him off. “We have an eight month old. And a toddler. _And_ three cats, _and_ a wolf dog. I...” she shakes her head. “We can’t get _another_ dog!”

“Well, he’s already at the house,” Jon says, sheepish. She groans.

“This is insane,” she tells him. “You recognize that, right?”

“Aye,” Jon says gravely. “I wouldn’t have normally, but I saw that message, and... he’s such a sweetheart. And he was about to be euthanized. I had to do something.”

Dany sighs, unable to fight off a smile. Oh, this wonderful, selfless, kindhearted, _idiotic_ man. She loves him more than she can put into words.

“Convenient time for you to finally learn how to access your messages,” she grumbles. “Fine. Whatever. One more animal added to our practical zoo; we won’t even notice, will we?”

“Not at all,” he says with a chuckle. Dany rolls her eyes again, but this time, it’s fond exasperation.

“Wait till you meet him, Dany,” Jon says. “He’s great. Aly loves him already. I know you will too.” She raises an eyebrow at her husband’s insistence. The last thing she needs is another living creature trying to elbow its way into her bed every night.

“I could punch you right now,” she informs Jon, and he laughs.

“I love you too,” he says. “Good luck with the rest of your work. See you tonight?”

She loves how he phrases it as a question, as if there’s anywhere _else_ she would rather be than their wonderful circus of a house.

“See you tonight,” she says. “But if you adopt any more animals between now and then, I _will_ have to punch you.”

[](https://www.flickr.com/photos/146793737@N07/50314783887/in/dateposted-public/)


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 3\. "Have you seen my hoodie?" "Noo." "You're wearing it, aren't you?"

Spring in the Vale has a definitive chill to it, but it’s still absolutely beautiful.

It’s always been one of Jon’s favorite times to hike the Eyrie. Everything is fresh and soft and green, the skies crisp and blue, the air like it only is after the harshness of winter has faded.

The biggest problem with spring in the Vale is that the snow is melting, and Ghost somehow _always_ finds a way to bathe in mud.

Thank the gods they’re at a campsite right now with running water. Jon thinks this is probably the third bath he’s given Ghost all weekend, rinsing mud from his paws and belly before he’s allowed anywhere near the tents.

Most of the dirt has been cleaned from Ghost’s snowy fur, but the process of washing his dog left Jon’s shirt soaked, and the chill in the air has even him shivering. Finally, he finishes, and lets Ghost free, laughing as he makes a beeline for Dany, who had graciously offered to cook dinner while he cleaned up his dog.

“Hi, boy!” Dany says, falling to her knees to ruffle Ghost’s ears, and Jon’s laugh becomes an affectionate smile instead, heart thumping as he watches his girlfriend smother his dog in kisses.

He really should have known, as soon as he saw how much Dany and Ghost loved each other, that she was the one. His dog is never wrong about people, even if Jon likes to second guess himself and how deserving he is of happiness.

“Dinner’s almost done,” Dany says, looking up at him, her eyes shining with happiness. This is the second long hike they’ve been on this year so far— Dany’s new ability to use her vacation time truly is a blessing— and still, there’s nothing more beautiful, Jon thinks, than the way she radiates happiness when it’s just her and him and Ghost out exploring the world.

“Great,” he says, dropping a kiss on her cheek as he passes her to get to the car. “I’m just goin’ to change quickly. I’m freezin’ with the breeze.”

Dany laughs as he opens the back of the car, pulling his bag out from underneath the raised platform that takes up most of his backseat and trunk for camping trips. _“You?_ Cold?” she teases, and Jon rolls his eyes.

“Aye, when my shirt is soaked through,” he says, pulling it off, tugging on a new, blissfully dry long sleeve. Still, the wind has a bit of a chill to it, so he looks for his pullover as well.

“You’re one to talk anyways,” he says, grinning at her. “You’ve been wearin’ a coat this entire trip.”

Dany rolls her eyes, stirring their supper again. “Yes, but I’m from the south. I’m not immune to the cold, like you tough northerners.” He can hear the sarcasm in her voice, her eyes sparkling when he meets them, looking up from his bag.

The breeze picks up, and Jon shivers again, his sweatshirt still nowhere to be found. “Hey, Dany?” he calls, digging through his clothes once again. “Have you seen my hoodie?”

There’s a long pause, his girlfriend suddenly completely immersed in her cooking duties. “Noo,” she finally answers, but it doesn’t sound convincing.

Jon’s eyes flick up, and it’s then that he notices the deep green hood peeking out above the collar of her coat.

He bites back a smile, trying not to laugh. “You’re wearin’ it, aren’t you?”

Dany’s expression immediately grows sheepish. “Uh. _Maybe,”_ she says, and now he can’t help it; he chuckles. Closing the back of the car, he walks over to her, wrapping his arms around her.

“I’m sorry, alright?” Dany laughs, but she doesn’t sound the least bit remorseful. “But I was cold, and it’s really soft, and it smells like you—”

Jon kisses her, effectively silencing her. Dany wearing his clothing is probably the _last_ thing he’ll ever complain about.

“It’s fine, love,” he tells her, and her eyes get soft. “I guess for once you’ll have to keep _me_ warm.”

Dany laughs, the sound like sunshine, and she turns in his arms and pulls him tightly against her chest.

“That,” she says, “I think I can handle.”

[](https://www.flickr.com/photos/146793737@N07/50314783877/in/dateposted-public/)


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 8\. “Can you please…? Hmmm, I don’t know. Maybe put a shirt on?!”
> 
> Also yes I acknowledge that I'm getting worse and worse at keeping these short. Sorry not sorry.

There are definite pros and cons, Dany finds, to working from home. 

Pro-- she doesn’t have to dress up, and can instead work from the couch in her sweatpants. She also can focus on her actual work much more, as she doesn’t have people walking into her office every five minutes. 

Con-- She misses Missandei and Margaery. Also, some things are just so much easier to work out in person than over email. 

There’s one specific thing that she can’t quite work out whether it’s a pro or con. And that is her boyfriend’s presence in her apartment. 

“You alright, love?” Jon asks her, leaning over the back of the sofa to drop a kiss on her cheek, his curls still ruffled from sleep. “Can I get anythin’ for you?” 

They’d gone on a day hike with Ghost in the Kingswood over the weekend, and Dany, momentarily distracted, had missed one singular footing and twisted her ankle. It’s not serious, as the doctor told her she’d probably be fine by next week, but he had also advised she keep all her weight off of it as much as possible, which is a task that’s difficult to accomplish while running around an office building in stilettos. 

Consequently, she’s working from home this week, with Jon dutifully playing nursemaid during the day when he doesn’t have shifts as Davos’. It makes her heart flutter, having this wonderful man dote on her constantly, fetching her coffee and ice packs and ibuprofen. It also means he and Ghost have practically moved into her apartment for the week, which she is... _not_ necessarily mad about. 

They’ve been dating for about four months now, and Dany knows they shouldn’t go rushing into anything, but. What had been nerves at the beginning of the week at the prospect of cohabitation has turned into fragile excitement for when they _do_ finally get to that point. 

“I’m fine, thanks,” Dany says, turning away from her laptop to smile sweetly at him. Another con to working at home-- only one screen. But the way Jon’s eyes shine as he grins back at her-- that’s certainly a pro. 

“Alright,” he says, straightening up. “Let me know if you do need anythin’.” 

With her foot propped on the coffee table, and Jon coming in periodically to switch out her ice pack, Dany manages to make her way through her work fairly efficiently. Missandei messages her through Skype the whole time too, and it’s almost like she’s really in the office. 

“C’mere, Drogon, let your mum work,” Jon says, popping in to remove her fussy cat from the couch at one point, who had been yowling for her attention for the past few minutes. Dany looks up to smile gratefully at him, but her mouth goes dry when she realizes he’s not wearing a shirt. 

She had heard the shower go on after he’d come back from his run with Ghost. His curls are still wet, hanging down loosely around his face in a way that makes her stomach flop, desire racing through her veins. 

Jon’s effortless attractiveness-- both a pro _and_ a con. 

_Knock it off,_ she chides herself. She still has lots of work to get done today. Her eyes return to her laptop, forcing aside fantasies of tugging her boyfriend down onto the couch with her. 

Jon, however, seems to be determined to make sure she’s unproductive, as he _still_ hasn’t put a shirt on two hours later. 

He keeps coming into the living room to change her ice pack, replenish her water, give her more drugs, chase the animals away. And yet he seems oblivious to how any time he walks into the room, her eyes immediately snap away from her computer, instead focusing on his smooth planes of muscle, the way his abs ripple as he stretches his arms overhead. 

_“Jon!”_ she finally snaps, whatever email she’s supposed to be focusing on long forgotten. He looks over at her, bewildered, at the frustration in her voice. 

“You’re distracting me,” she says pointedly, and his brow furrows, blinking at her in adorable confusion. 

“What?” he asks, shaking his head a little. “How?” Dany rolls her eyes, gesturing at his bare chest. 

“Can you please... Oh, I don’t know. Maybe put a shirt on?!” she says, huffing in exasperation. 

Jon’s confusion morphs into wickedness in about a second, and _gods,_ maybe she shouldn’t have said anything at all, because the wanton gleam in his eyes is decidedly more distracting that his half-nakedness. 

“I’m sorry,” he says, walking over, putting her laptop on the coffee table before sitting next to her on the couch, his body pressing into hers as he whispers in her ear. “Why? What were you thinkin’ about?” 

Dany huffs again, but she knows it’s a lost cause, the warmth of his skin pressing into her making her dizzy. “Things that I _shouldn’t_ be thinking about while working,” she admits, and he smiles, kissing her hungrily. 

Every thought of work flies out the window at that, Dany moaning as Jon turns them, pressing her into the cushions as he hovers over her. “Jon,” she says, and it’s supposed to sound chiding, but her nails are raking down his glorious back muscles, squeezing her arse, and she can’t really think of anything else. 

His lips are intoxicating, but dimly, a still-responsible corner of her mind yells at her for allowing herself to be so distracted. “Jon,” she repeats, and he hums, pulling away from her just a bit, one of his hands palming her breast through her t-shirt. 

“I have a conference call in fifteen minutes,” she manages to get out, but he seems unperturbed. 

“S’alright,” he says, beard scraping against her skin as he kisses down the column of her throat. “I’ll be quick.” 

She laughs at that, her good leg wrapping around his waist, holding him tight to her as his hips grind against hers. “I seriously doubt that,” she says. Jon looks at her, his eyes warm through his dark lashes, and her heart lurches at the soft affection that shines there, clear as day. 

“You want me to stop?” he asks, for once, serious. 

Dany considers it for half a second, her heart still racing, before she tugs him into her, kissing him again. 

“It’s fine,” she murmurs against his lips. “If I miss the first few minutes, I don’t bloody care.” 

[](https://www.flickr.com/photos/146793737@N07/50313934093/in/dateposted-public/)


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 11\. “Are you flirting with me?” “You finally noticed?”
> 
> Apologies if I spelled Hizdahr's name wrong, I really don't give a damn about him. 
> 
> Also I went back and added insta posts to all the previous chapters if you wanna check em out. It felt wrong without them, lol.

Corporate galas, it turns out, are much more enjoyable with a distracting date, Dany has learned. 

Last year’s had been pretty great, all things considered, though that was mostly to do with her ditching early and getting drunk in a bar with Jon. It still isn’t definitive that she _won’t_ be doing that this year as well, especially seeing as at the end of the night Jon will have to come home with her regardless, seeing as they now share an apartment, and there won’t be any of those pesky fears or hesitations from last year that had stood in the way of Dany getting what she _really_ wanted. 

Her boyfriend looks fucking delectable in a suit, after all. 

That, plus his presence by her side all night, almost makes all the schmoozing tolerable, she finds. When people start droning on about things she doesn’t care about, she just lets her eyes wander to the way Jon’s perfectly-tailored jacket hugs his shoulders, and when people say something particularly insulting of her career, her boyfriend’s hand in hers keeps her from completely ripping their heads off. 

It’s almost as good of a tactic as Margaery’s technique of getting completely hammered, if she does say so herself. 

Not that she’s _not_ indulging in the open bar. 

That’s where Jon is now, getting them another round of drinks to drown out the last few people they have to talk to. Well, _she_ has to talk to, but Jon is a sweetheart and has stayed by her side all night so she hasn’t had to face arseholes like Stannis Baratheon and Tywin Lannister alone.

Really, she doesn’t know what she did to deserve him. 

“Like I was saying,” the man before Dany says, and she nods distractedly, trying to pretend she’s paying attention. It’s been... gods, at least ten minutes now of him droning on, and Dany’s about ready to stab herself in the eye. Hizdahr-- she’s about eighty percent sure that’s his name-- is some bigwig in the Essos building, and he’s spent almost the entirety of their conversation mansplaining her job to her, as if she’s not one of the youngest executives at the company for a reason.

“It’s really a fascinating concept, and we’ve had a lot of success with it,” Hizdahr says, his smile widening. Dany just wants to punch his smarmy grin right off his face. “I’d be happy to explain it to you more in depth. Maybe over dinner?” 

Dany blinks, because she’s had a lot to drink, but not _that_ much. 

“Wait a minute,” she says, shaking her head. “Are you flirting with me?” 

His grin widens. “You finally noticed?” 

Dany just stands there for a moment, speechless. In all her years-- seven hells, someone’s really trying to pick her up at a _company sponsored gala_ right now? 

“Hizdahr,” she says, sending up a quick prayer to whatever gods are available that that is actually his name. “I’m, uh, flattered, but I’m afraid--” 

“Hi, love,” she hears, and her shoulders probably visibly sag with relief at the appearance of Jon. He offers her a drink, which she gratefully takes before his now-free hand slides back to its place on her waist, fingers curling into her possessively. Jon surveys Hizdahr, who seems a little speechless, and Dany doesn’t miss the way her boyfriend pulls her in closer than is strictly necessary, his body warm against hers. “Everythin’ alright?” 

“Yes,” Dany says, biting back a smirk. Jon jealous is something she sees so rarely, and she secretly loves how possessive he gets. Like there’s nothing in the world that he would let take her away from him. 

“Jon, this is Hizdahr,” Dany says, “from the Essos office. Hizdahr, this is my boyfriend, Jon Snow.” 

The other man’s expression is a hilarious mix of anger and dejection. Dany understands. There’s really no competing with Jon, especially not when he’s wearing the hell out of a suit like he is now.

“Good to meet you,” Jon says, nodding at him. Hizdahr returns the nod curtly, looking down into his glass. 

“Well, it’s been a pleasure, Daenerys, but I must go,” he says, brows still pinched together. Dany has to choke down a laugh, Jon’s fingers conspicuously stroking her waist. Jealousy does _not_ become the other man. 

“So nice meeting you,” Dany says, trying not to sound _too_ false as Hizdahr stalks away. 

Jon turns to her once he’s gone, his forehead resting against hers conspiratorially. “What was that all about?” he whispers, a little smirk playing at his lips, and _gods,_ she wants to kiss him so badly. 

“Nothing important,” she answers. “He tried to ask me out to dinner, I think, in between explaining how a strategy I developed a few years back works, and how they’ve implemented it in the Essos office.” She smiles, nose nudging Jon’s. “In all honesty, I was quite distracted watching this handsome man at the bar.” 

Jon laughs, his fingers tightening on her waist. “Is that so?” 

“Mmm,” she hums, rising up on tiptoes to kiss him quickly. He tastes like whiskey, and all she wants is more. 

“Is it time for us to ditch for Davos’ yet?” she asks, and Jon chuckles again. 

“Almost,” he promises. “Though this year-- no shots.” 

“Definitely,” Dany agrees, smirking at him. “I want to _remember_ what you do to me afterwards in my bedroom this year.” 

[ ](https://www.flickr.com/photos/146793737@N07/50325605181/in/dateposted-public/)


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 15\. “I told you not to fall in love with me.”

Dany wakes up to the feeling of something warm and solid pressed against her back. 

She smiles sleepily, cuddling back into her boyfriend, eyes sliding closed once again. There’s nowhere she’s happier than in Jon’s arms. But something feels-- _wrong._ Shifting again, she tries to remember what Jon had worn to bed that night, seeing as she’s fairly certain it wasn’t a shag rug. 

And then something wet and cold pokes her in the neck, and she jolts upright. 

“Ghost!” she whisper-snaps, turning to find that Jon’s dog has somehow elbowed his way in between the two of them. Squinting, she looks over at his bedroom door-- apparently it _hadn’t_ been closed all the way, because she can see a sliver of light coming from the living room, where Ghost had been banished earlier in the evening. 

Well, either that or Grenn let him into Jon’s room when he got home, so that Ghost’s whining wouldn’t wake him up early. 

Ghost’s tail thuds against the bed steadily, and the massive dog rolls over so he can look at Dany, tongue lolling. Dany smiles despite herself, scratching his ears. “You’re hogging the bed,” she tells him, and his head tilts to the side, like such a concept is completely foreign to him. “C’mon,” she urges, trying to push Ghost out of the way and back down to the foot of the bed, so he can nap on their feet. “Ghost, you’re taking up my spot.” 

The dog does not budge, growling lowly when Dany tries to move him. He’s so bloody big that she knows manually picking him up is _not_ a question, so instead she nudges her boyfriend. 

“Jon,” she murmurs, and he exhales, turning over, eyes still closed. “Love, you have to move your dog.” 

“Ghost,” Jon grumbles, shoving blindly at the animal. “Get out of the way, or no breakfast tomorrow.” Ghost seems unperturbed, rolling over and sprawling out across the mattress once more. 

“You’re such a bloody bed hog,” Jon says, blinking sleepily as he sits up, arms looping around Ghost. “C’mon, boy, Dany needs a spot too.” 

Ghost grumbles again, but Jon is much more successful in physically moving him, the dog finally relenting and curling up at the bottom of the bed. Dany laughs, crawling back into her spot, Jon’s arms looping around her instinctively. 

“Sorry,” he mumbles, nose nudging her forehead, his eyes already closed again. She smiles, snuggling into his solid, warm, and _noticeably_ less hairy body. “He’s not used to sharin’, even with just me.” 

“I think you need to invest in a California king,” she murmurs back, letting the rhythm of Jon’s fingers tracing up and down her back lull her back to drowsiness. “Then maybe we won’t have to fight for space.” 

“I told you not to fall in love with me,” he teases. “I come with a permanent third wheel.” 

Dany smiles sleepily, because even if that’s true, she doesn’t mind one bit. “You said no such thing,” she tells him. “And even if you had, I wouldn’t have listened anyways.” 

“Good,” Jon says, and it’s the last thing she hears before they both drift back to sleep. 

[ ](https://www.flickr.com/photos/146793737@N07/50331588868/in/dateposted-public/)


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 2\. “Is there a reason you’re blushing like that?”

With every second that passes, Jon is regretting volunteering to be designated driver more and more. 

When Dany had mentioned her upcoming monthly brunch with Irri and Missandei, complete with decadent pastries and _lots_ of mimosas, Jon hadn’t thought much of it. He’d been trying to be a good boyfriend, offering to drive her and her friends to and from the cafe. He’s realizing now that he should have just let them take an uber. 

Dany’s been turned around in the front seat practically the entire drive, still jabbering away with her best friends, seated in the back. Hells, he’d gone and vacuumed all the dog hair out of his backseat for this, and _this_ is how he gets repaid. By having to listen to his sloshed girlfriend disclose _far_ too many details of their sex life to Irri and Missandei. 

He’s never going to be able to look either of them in the eye again after this, he’s sure of it. 

“Oh, please, Missandei, you’ll be fine,” Dany says, waving her hand at her friend in dismissal. “The first time Jon and I hooked up was in the fucking _Red Mountains._ If we can make that work, you can make this work.” 

Jon can feel his ears turning red, both of her friends laughing. “Mmm, and we know how well that trip went for you,” Missandei says. He can see her smirk in the rearview mirror. “I’m surprised the camping mattress survived.” 

“So am I!” Dany laughs, turning back towards Jon momentarily. “Oh my gods, especially that last night--” His cheeks heat up again, eyes focused on the road ahead and nothing else, tuning out his girlfriend’s words. 

“Jon,” Irri teases, leaning forward into the space above the center console. “Is there a reason you’re blushing like that?” 

He coughs, shaking his head. Five more minutes, he thinks, and then they’ll be at Missandei’s place, and he can stop feeling ready to die of embarrassment. “Er,” Jon says, not sure how to respond. “Just... this is makin’ me wonder what Dany said about me when I _wasn’t_ here to listen.” 

“Don’t worry,” Missandei says in a tone that makes him _very_ worried. “Only good things. She gave you glowing reviews, really.” 

“I’m, ah, not sure if that makes me feel better or worse,” he admits. 

“Ugh, Dei, I’m sick of being single,” Irri complains. “You have to find me a boyfriend next, okay? Preferably one who’s as wonderful to me as Jon is to Daenerys.” 

_Oh,_ Jon thinks, heart squeezing. _Well, that’s rather sweet._ The embarrassment fades for a moment, and Jon steals a glance over at his girlfriend, her eyes shining. 

“Ooh, Jon has roommates!” Dany remembers, turning away from him once again to face her friends. “He’s got three. Take your pick!” 

“Oh, no, gods above,” Jon says, shaking his head. “Trust me, Irri, you don’t want any part of that.” 

Dany scoffs. “Don’t listen to him,” she says, waving a hand in his face. Jon takes it, lowering it down so that he can focus on the road again. 

Gods, she’s so fucking adorable when she’s drunk. 

“Really, Irri,” Dany insists. “They’re sweethearts, all of them. Not as attractive as Jon, because, I mean, _look_ at him, but--” 

Thank the bloody gods that their arrival in front of Missandei’s building cuts off whatever Dany was going to say next. The other girls hug their friend goodbye, Missandei waving cheerfully to Jon as she practically skips back into the lobby. 

Irri doesn’t live far, so before long they’re dropping her off as well, and then it’s just him and Dany. A comfortable silence falls over the car as Jon drives through the city, back to her apartment building. 

He doesn’t realize until they’ve arrived that his girlfriend has dozed off. 

Jon laughs, parking the car in Dany’s guest spot, reaching over to wake her. “Hey, love,” he says, and she jumps a little, waking back up. “We’re here.” 

“Oh,” she says, blinking sleepily. “I... didn’t realize.” 

Jon chuckles, climbing out of the car before coming over to help her out as well. “How many mimosas did you have?” 

“Mmm.” She teeters a little as she climbs out, so Jon takes her arm, steadying her. “They were quite good, you know. And _bottomless.”_

He smiles at her, charmed by the sleepy way she strings the words together. “You said that,” he tells her, looping an arm around her waist. 

“Jon,” she mumbles, leaning into him. “Are you mad?” 

“What?” he says, laughing. “Why would I be mad?” 

She exhales, adorably huge. “Because I told Missandei and Irri all about how fucking _good_ you are in bed,” she admits, and Jon laughs again. “I couldn’t help it! Missandei started talking about Grey, and then we had more drinks, and it just... slipped out.” 

“I’m not mad,” he promises her, dropping a kiss on her head as he leads them back to the front door. “I don’t think I’ll ever be able to make eye contact with either of them again, but...” Dany huffs, and he just smiles. “I’m glad you had fun with your friends.” 

She hums contently. “I’m glad you’re so wonderful.” 

It’s impossible to even _consider_ being mad at her when she goes around saying things like that. 

“I think you need a nap,” Jon says, and she nods, sagging against his chest as he pushes the door to her building lobby open. 

“Mmm,” she agrees, nuzzling into him sleepily. “Stay with me?” 

Jon smiles, because of that, there’s no question. “Always.” 

[ ](https://www.flickr.com/photos/146793737@N07/50332524922/in/dateposted-public/)


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 33\. “Welcome back. Now fucking help me.”
> 
> This got SO long I am very sorry. Also I promise I am working on these still I just have like 23940283 other projects I am trying to coordinate because the holidays are already stressing me out
> 
> (Also had to change the prompt a lil bit to make it work sorry!!)

Gods, Jon still hasn’t gotten used to how bloody hot it is in King’s Landing yet. 

He squints against the sunlight as he climbs out of his car, slamming the door behind him. Six months, he’s been in this city now. It’s so different from Winterfell that he feels like he’s on a different planet most of the time. 

Maybe that’s a good thing, though. The warmth helps him forget, he’s found. Forget about the past. Everything that happened that led him to here. 

Jon twirls his keys around his fingers as he pulls the building door open, the cool air conditioning washing over him providing instant relief from the heat. It’s nice, being in a new city, and closer to Robb, Sansa, and even Arya now that she’s back from her semester abroad, but the weather-- that he doesn’t think he’ll ever become accustomed to. 

He takes the stairs slowly up to the floor his apartment is on, remembering the words of his doctor during the appointment he’d just come from. He’s healing, and his heart is getting stronger, but still not as strong as it once was. It’s been almost a year now-- he thought he’d be better by now, but everything is still an exercise in pacing himself. _Soon,_ the doctor had said. _Soon you’ll be back to normal._

Jon’s not even sure he knows what normal is anymore. 

He tries to block out the thoughts, not let his mind get dragged back down into that dark place it’d only recently climbed out of as he opens his apartment door. 

“I’m back--” Jon calls out to his roommates, but the words die in his mouth. 

What awaits him is pure and utter chaos. 

Someone’s screaming-- Pyp, probably, judging by the sound, and he catches a quick flash of white race by at the end of the hallway, closely followed by Sam. _Oh, gods,_ he thinks, taking a step into the hallway, realizing that their flooring has somehow become... black? 

“Get back here, you beast!” Pyp hollers, and then Jon sees _him_ run across the living room as well. Upon closer inspection, he sees paw prints in the black mess tracked up and down the hallway, and his stomach drops. 

“Oh, _fuck,”_ Jon whispers. 

Grenn appears at the end of the hallway then, covered in snowy white dog hair and black... whatever it is. Paint? Ink? Jon’s not sure, but it’s _not_ good. “Welcome back,” Grenn says, chest heaving. “Now fucking help us.” 

“What... what happened?” Jon says, heart pounding as he sidesteps the tracks of black up and down the hallway, entering the living room. Ghost is racing circles, barking with glee, as Sam and Pyp try to corner him. 

“Ghost got into my new fuckin’ printer,” Grenn says, gesturing at the shredded cardboard box and mess of plastic parts on the coffee table. “And somehow managed to empty the ink cartridge onto _everything.”_

“Oh, fuck,” Jon repeats, eyes wide with horror. “Ah... Ghost, stop it! C’mere, boy!” 

His dog doesn’t come, but he hesitates long enough that Pyp is able to tackle him, Sam grabbing his collar just in case. Ghost, sweet, wonderful idiot that he is, thinks it’s a game, because he rolls over in Pyp’s arms, licking at his face. His paws are painted black with ink as well, his entire underbelly coated in it. 

“Oh, gods,” Sam says, pushing Ghost’s inky foot away from him. “What do we do, Jon? We have to clean him up!” 

“Don’t forget the fuckin’ apartment!” Pyp grumbles, face half full of fur. 

“Er...” Jon says, mind blank. His heart is racing, taking in the destruction his dog has caused. “Uh, Grenn, get his crate, in my room. Take the bed out of it; drag it out here.” He carefully walks across the living room as Grenn disappears down the hall towards his room, sidestepping ink spills and pawprints on the floor. Thank _fuck_ they don’t have real hardwood. 

“Hey, boy,” Jon says, gently easing Ghost’s collar from Sam’s grip. “What’d you do, boy, huh? Why’d you go make such a mess?” 

He knows the answer is because he’s a wolfdog, and Jon can’t exactly exercise him as much as he should be right now, because of his heart. He needs to talk to Robb about that-- maybe he can run him with Grey Wind, just until Jon’s able to once again. Or maybe he should listen to Arya, and start looking for easy hiking trails through the Kingswood. 

Ghost has been the sole reason he’s gotten out of bed most of these past few months, his best friend through all of it. And he’s still a puppy, really, even though he’s far from the size of one now. It’s not fair to him to not have the absolute best life he could have, regardless of Jon’s recovery. 

“Here,” Grenn says, depositing the crate by the sofa. Carefully, Jon leads his dog to it, Ghost’s tail wagging all the way as he herds him in and closes the door. 

“Alright,” Sam says, standing up, his expression _wildly_ overwhelmed. “I’ll, uh, get a mop?” 

It takes them _hours,_ but finally they get all the ink off the floor, the printer pieces in the trash, and any clothing that was stained in the wash. Jon takes Ghost into the bathroom, scrubs him down vigorously in the tub until the water runs clean. His paws are still tinged a little black, but he figures they’ll have to wait for the rest of it to wear off. He’s not tracking it anywhere anymore, at least. 

Jon feeds Ghost dinner, the excitement wearing him out enough where he curls up on his end of the couch, paws tucked under his head, deep red eyes sliding closed. He looks so angelic, Jon thinks. Nothing like a dog who just tried to completely destroy his owner’s apartment. 

His flatmates are all on the sofa, blankly watching the match that’s on TV. Hesitantly, Jon takes a seat between Grenn and Sam. They don’t look at him, and suddenly, fear seizes his heart. 

They’re going to kick him out, he realizes. They’re going to tell him to pack his bags and get his destructive dog and get the hell out of their apartment. His stomach flops, blood in his veins suddenly like ice at the realization that _more_ of his brothers are about to turn on him. 

“I’m so sorry,” Jon finally says, unable to stand the silence. “Truly, I am. I never thought he would...” he trails off, nerves twisting in knots. 

“Eat a fuckin’ printer?” Grenn says, and on the other side of the couch, Pyp laughs. “I never did either, really.” 

“I’ll buy you a new one,” Jon offers, but Grenn shakes his head. There’s a bit of a smile on his face now, and the knots in his stomach ease for a moment. 

“It’s fine,” he says, shrugging. “You told us he’s more destructive than other dogs. It’s my fault, for leavin’ it out here and leavin’ him with it.” 

“I’m goin’ to work on his training,” Jon promises, and Ghost lifts his head, regarding all of them. “And I’ll have Robb run him, so he gets more exercise, until I can start runnin’ again, and I’ll...” he exhales. “I won’t let it happen again. But I still understand if you want me gone.” 

All his flatmates look at him, expressions confused. “Are you serious?” Pyp asks, and Jon’s sharp, ragged breath out makes his eyes widen. “Fuck, Jon, d’you really think we’d kick you out because of this?” 

“I mean, I wouldn’t blame you,” he says, but Sam’s laughing now, and so is Grenn, and all of a sudden he feels so much _lighter._

“Don’t be daft,” Sam says. “You’re our brother, Jon. You’re not going anywhere.” 

“And neither is this guy,” Pyp says, leaning over to reach Ghost, ruffling his ears. Ghost yips, standing up on the couch and rolling into Pyp’s lap, presenting his belly for rubs. “Who else would practically pee himself with excitement every time I came home?” 

“Well, certainly not me,” Grenn huffs, and Jon laughs, watching his flatmates fawn over his dog, laughing with him. The knots untangle, the leaden ball in his stomach disappears.

Jon looks over at Ghost, and for the first time in a _while,_ he feels like he really belongs somewhere. 

[ ](https://www.flickr.com/photos/146793737@N07/50354660162/in/dateposted-public/)


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 15\. “I just wanted to let you know that I think you’re beautiful.”
> 
> Yes this DOES have 3 instagram posts because let's be real that's the real reason I'm writing these

Somehow, the Red Waste is even more incredible than Dany had remembered it. 

Jon had surprised her a month ago with plane tickets (one for Ghost as well) and ten days off pre-cleared with Olenna. Her heart had thumped as she had registered the date on the tickets— their departure was the same day that, a year ago, they set off for the Red Mountains together. 

A whole year, it’s been. Probably the best year of her life. All because of the man to her left— and his dog, of course. 

"Wow,” Jon says, stopping next to her at the edge of the plateau. Red rock stretches out as far as the eye can see, mountain peaks and plains coming up to meet the endless blue sky, late afternoon sunshine making the horizon glow golden. 

“I know,” Dany says, leaning into him. Jon takes her hand in his, twining their fingers together. Ghost flops down at their feet, panting, and her boyfriend rolls his eyes, Dany trying not to laugh. His white paws have been stained red from the earth pretty much since the moment they got here. 

“I never really thought I’d make it back here,” Dany murmurs, eyes on the horizon. It’s like something out of a dream, seeing all of this again. Jon looks down at her, brow furrowing. 

“Why not?” he asks, Ghost shifting so he’s half on their feet. 

Dany shrugs. “I don’t know. I think a part of me just got so used to living behind a desk that I forgot my life could be more than that.” She rolls her eyes. “That sounds cheesy, sorry.” 

“No,” Jon says, leaning into her, forehead pressed to hers. The warmth of his body is welcoming, one of his hands wrapping around her waist. During the day when the sun is high in the sky, it’s pretty warm, even for winter, but when the sun begins to set, like it is now, it begins to feel as cold as the North. 

“It’s not cheesy,” he says, and Dany smiles, nose nudging his. “And if I had any hand in helpin’ you remember, I’m glad.” 

She laughs, rising on tiptoes to kiss him quickly. Before she ever met Jon, she was content to spend all of her days buried in work, hiding behind a computer. Now she never wants to go back to that life, where she only dreamed of getting to see all these parts of the world instead of going out and finding them. “Saying you had a part is an understatement.” 

Jon smiles against her lips, holding her close. “Truly, I thought most of it was Ghost.” 

Dany leans back in his arms, head tipping back as she laughs. “Alright, that is fair,” she says. Ghost looks up at them both, head cocked adorably. “Definitely Ghost.” 

They look out at the sprawling landscape again, Dany’s head on Jon’s chest. “Gods, can you believe this is the first hike I ever did?” she asks, and Jon chuckles. “What the hells was I thinking? Talk about over-ambitious.” 

“That sounds like you,” Jon says. “Determined to do what you want, even if it’s difficult.” 

“Mm,” she hums. “I suppose so.” 

They fall quiet, watching as the sun sinks lower. Their camp isn’t far away, though, their hike almost done, so they stay. Dany can feel Jon’s eyes on her, so she turns, meeting his gaze. His eyes shine, full of affection, and it makes her heart stutter. 

“What?” she asks, and Jon smiles, shaking his head. 

“I just wanted to let you know,” he says, bringing their foreheads together again, “that I think you’re beautiful.” 

Dany laughs, hands wrapping around his neck. “That is a blatant lie,” she says, but her heart flutters all the same. “I haven’t showered in five days. I smell awful, and my hair is a rat’s nest.” 

Jon shakes his head. “Mm. Doesn’t matter. You still are.” 

He kisses her before she can argue back, which in all honesty, she’s completely fine with. 

“Thank you for taking me here again,” she whispers against his lips when they separate, foreheads still pressed together, hearts beating in time with each other. “This is the best gift I ever could have asked for.” 

“Thank you for lettin’ me come with you,” he says, and Dany laughs again. 

“Jon,” she whispers. “All I ever want is for you to come with me.” 

“Good,” he whispers back. “That’s all I ever want too.”

[](https://www.flickr.com/photos/146793737@N07/50360610573/in/dateposted-public/) [](https://www.flickr.com/photos/146793737@N07/50360610553/in/dateposted-public/)


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am still working on these, for the record. I'll get to them all eventually once my own job becomes less of a hellbeast. 
> 
> Prompt for WTWTA: the first time Jon says "Ghost, get off your mother."

Dany feels ready to collapse by the time she finally gets home. 

She’s used to working insane hours, taking on more than she should, giving every ounce of energy she has to her job. She’s had to do a lot less of that as of late, ever since they filled the positions Olenna had created on her team, but this week-- this week was something from a level of hell that Dany had never experienced before. 

It had started with a PR nightmare when one of their brand ambassadors had gone off the fucking deep end (not as bad as the Joffrey Baratheon incident, but close) and had snowballed from there. Another round of hours-long recall debates with engineering and legal, a thousand things to coordinate for Margaery’s new marketing campaign, and then, of course, the never-ending stack of press releases on the end of her desk, courtesy of the new season upon them. It’s a miracle she didn’t have to stay until ten at night today-- and really, Dany knows, it’s only because she has a shitload of work in her bag to get done over the weekend.

Jon won’t be happy, she knows-- he hates when she has to hole herself up in her home office and waste her weekend working-- but he’s also the most wonderful, supportive boyfriend she could ever ask for, so she knows he’ll understand anyways. 

“I’m home,” she calls as she walks into her apartment. She’s not really sure why there’s even a distinction at this point-- Jon practically lives with her by now. His lease with the boys is up in a couple months, and they both sort of intrinsically know he won’t be renewing it. 

She can smell food coming from the kitchen, Ghost’s nails clicking on the hardwood as he rounds the corner and comes barreling into her. “Hey, love,” Jon calls back, and she dumps her bag, heading for the kitchen. Jon’s facing the stove, stirring something that smells absolutely delicious, and just the sight of him helps ease a little tension from her muscles. 

“Hi,” Dany mumbles, burying her face in his back as she hugs him from behind, reveling in the solid warmth of him against her aching body. Jon chuckles, turning so he can hold her as well, kissing the top of her head. “I think I need a month off from work.” 

“Well, I won’t argue with that,” Jon says, a hand smoothing through her hair. “Was today any better than yesterday?” 

“Mm. Marginally,” she says, peering up at him. Her heart hums when she meets his gorgeous eyes, full of affection. “Yesterday night I didn’t have you here to cook for me.” 

Jon smiles, his eyes crinkling at the corners. Ghost is still circling their feet, whining for either Dany to pet him or Jon to share what he’s cooking-- or maybe both, in truth. 

“Well, I hope you’re hungry then,” he says, leaning down to kiss her. 

Dany smiles against his lips. “Starving.” 

They eat at the island, Jon listening good-naturedly as she bitches about her day. They end up cuddled on the couch after dinner, her head in Jon’s lap, his fingers combing through her hair as they watch some mindless sitcom. Rhaegal is perched on the armrest next to Jon, his other hand occupied with stroking her cat. 

She finds herself drifting off-- it’s been one of those days, after all, and she is exhausted. The rhythmic strokes of Jon’s fingers through her hair lull her half to sleep, the warmth of his body below hers like a sedative. She can feel her eyes start to close, her attention start to wane, and then-- 

Dany is jolted back to the world of the living by a _very_ large dog jumping on top of her. 

“Ghost!” she wheezes, her lungs only half crushed by the sheer size of him. He whines, trying to wiggle between her and Jon. 

“Ghost, seven hells, what are you doin’?” Jon says, glaring daggers at his dog. “Get off your mother; you’re smotherin’ her.” 

Jon seems to realize what he just said a moment after Dany does. Her heart races in her chest, letting the meaning of Jon’s words wash over her. 

It’s silly, and inconsequential probably. But it still somehow makes her heart squeeze, the amount of love she feels for this man grow even larger. By now, she hadn’t thought that would be possible, but every day he surprises her more. 

“It’s okay,” Dany murmurs, sitting up so she’s tucked into Jon’s side, tugging Ghost’s collar so he can lay across their laps. “Here you go, sweet. Now you can snuggle too.” 

Jon chuckles, kissing her hair as his dog contently settles into his new spot, sprawled across both of them. He doesn’t say anything, but he doesn’t have to. Dany knows what he means without him having to speak the words. 

[ ](https://www.flickr.com/photos/146793737@N07/50461365013/in/dateposted-public/)


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A Halloween update (first of maybe three?) to accompany the fake insta posts I made last year. This takes place mid-chapter 9, I believe.

“Oh, for the love of gods— Grey Wind, _please!”_

Jon laughs as Robb chases after his dog again, who has decided being wrapped in toilet paper is simply unacceptable. Ghost, ever the model dog, is sitting calmly next to him on Robb and Talisa’s front steps, his ghost costume still draped over him as Jon scratches his ears.

“How’s that comin’?” Jon asks, nodding at Arya’s handiwork. They’d tried getting the pirate costume onto Nymeria for a good fifteen minutes before his sister had declared: “Fuck it, she’s being a pumpkin head,” and had grabbed a knife and one of the pumpkins on the stoop. Jon had questioned what exactly a pumpkin head _was_ and if anyone would understand, to which she’d rolled her eyes and told him he needed to watch popular sitcoms like the rest of the world.

“Almost done,” she says, punching in the second ear hole. “Nymeria, girl, here!”

Nymeria comes bounding over as the front door opens, Ghost’s head bending backwards to see who it is. An exhausted looking Talisa appears, shutting it behind her, Ben in her arms and a large bag of dog treats clutched in her hand.

“Will these work, Arya?” Talisa asks, dropping the treats into her goodsister’s lap. Ben makes a soft cooing noise in her arms, Talisa’s eyes flitting down to her son.

“These are perfect,” Arya says with a grin. “Nymeria, down.”

Robb jogs back over to them, looking defeated. “He’s a lost cause,” he says, throwing a grim look in Grey Wind’s direction. Jon tries not to laugh again as he watches the dog roll in the grass, his mummy costume in tatters.

“Not everyone can be as camera-ready as Ghost,” Talisa says with a shrug. Ghost’s ears perk at his name, his wagging tail making the sheet draped over him sway. His goodsister takes a seat on the other side of Jon, next to his dog, who sniffs curiously at Ben.

“Gentle, Ghost,” Jon warns, putting a hand on his collar through the sheet just to be safe, but there’s nothing to worry about. A smile creeps across his face as he watches his dog with his nephew, Ghost whining as he noses gently at Ben’s little hand.

“How’s he already gotten so much bigger? It’s only been a week,” Jon says. Talisa grins at him, her tired eyes shining.

“I know,” she says. “Every time I look away I swear he grows.”

“Alright,” Arya says, drawing everyone’s attention. “I’m going to put this on her head, and then we have maybe thirty seconds tops to take this picture.” She looks at Robb. “Grey Wind’s out?”

“Unfortunately,” Robb pouts. “I was hopin’ that getting him in this photo for Ghost’s account would be his big break. I could use some free hiking stuff too, y’know.”

Jon makes a face at him, trying to hide his smile. “You really want to be bossed around by Margaery in the name of free hiking boots?”

Robb pauses, reconsidering. “Aye, maybe not.”

Jon’s phone buzzes in his pocket, and he fishes it out as Robb tries one last-ditch effort to get Grey Wind back. His heart speeds up when he sees it’s a text from Dany, grinning stupidly as he opens it.

“Oh, gods,” he says, laughing. Arya raises an eyebrow at him, Talisa also looking at him expectantly.

“What?” Arya demands. “What’s so funny?”

“Dany’s having about equal success as us with pet Halloween photos,” he says. “Apparently only one of her cats hasn’t shredded their costumes.”

“Seven hells, you two really are perfect for each other,” Robb says. “Arya, you ready?”

“Yes,” she says, turning back to Nymeria. “Alright, girl, stay in place, alright?”

Robb joins her and gives Nymeria a nearly steady stream of treats as Jon readies his camera, Talisa fixing Ghost’s sheet before coming to stand out of the way by his side. “Okay!” Arya declares, the pumpkin on Nymeria’s head. “Stay, girl!”

Both of his siblings dart out of the way, Jon snapping the photos before Nymeria loses patience and stands, shoving the pumpkin off her head with a paw.

“I got them,” he says proudly, pulling up the display. “Here, look.”

“Oh, those are perfect,” Arya says, her grin giddy. “Now, text Daenerys back, tell her your pet photoshoot was only successful because of your brilliant sister, and then ask her out on a bloody date, would you?”

“Seconded,” Robb says, taking Ben from Talisa’s arms. “Seriously, Jon, are you ever going to make a move?”

Jon glares at the both of them, but their grins make it very hard to stay mad at them. “I will eventually,” he promises. When the time is right. Dany had gone and bared her soul to him just a week ago— he knows she needs more time to adjust to the idea of being with someone. Just knowing she has feelings for him is plenty for now.

“Well, at the rate you’re going, eventually means what— five years from now?” Robb asks. Jon rolls his eyes again.

“Maybe so,” he jokes back. Arya huffs with laughter, Robb and Talisa sharing a look.

Jon doesn’t mind, though. He knows however long it takes— Dany’s worth the wait.

[](https://www.flickr.com/photos/146793737@N07/50514849032/in/dateposted-public/) [](https://www.flickr.com/photos/146793737@N07/50513971698/in/dateposted-public/)


	16. Chapter 16

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 13\. When One Person’s Face Is Scrunched Up, And The Other One Kisses Their Lips/Nose/Forehead
> 
> I'm hoping to have 2 more Halloween drabbles up (one tomorrow, one Friday) but that is entirely dependent on me not being busy enough to actually take my lunchbreak lol.

“Woah, look at that one.”

Jon nods towards the house to their left, covered in spiderwebs, an army of carved pumpkins on the stoop and ghosts hanging from the trees. They sway back and forth in the mid morning breeze, Ghost’s ears perking as he watches the movement.

“Wow,” Dany says, brows raising. “This neighborhood really doesn’t mess around with decorations, do they?”

“No, not at all,” Jon says. A low growl sounds from the dog walking between them, Jon’s eyes immediately darting down. “Hey, Ghost, relax. It’s not real, boy.”

“It’s alright,” Dany says, patting his head comfortingly. Jon smiles at her when Ghost quiets, bounding ahead of them again, his leash still hanging slack in Jon’s hand.

“I feel a little self conscious about our two pumpkins now,” Dany confesses. “We haven’t even carved them yet.”

Jon shrugs. “In our defense, we’ve been a little busy,” he says, and her heart flutters, eyes darting down to the shiny new band on his ring finger that matches her own.

“Mm,” Dany says, and Jon switches Ghost’s leash to his other hand so that Dany can tuck herself into his side. “I guess that is a good point.”

“Besides, we still have time,” Jon tells her. “Halloween is in what… a week?”

“Yes,” Dany says, shrugging. “Still, I don’t think that’s enough time to decorate our house like these.”

“Well, it’s a good thing we live in the next neighborhood over then, aye?” Jon teases. “Not everything’s a competition, love.”

Dany’s face scrunches as she looks at him, and Jon laughs, eyes shining. “Technically,” she concedes. Her husband— gods, that still feels so weird and so wonderful to think— leans over, kissing her furrowed brow sweetly.

“Maybe next year,” Dany says. “I want the giant inflatable cat we saw at that other house. And we could cover the porch in spiderwebs, and…” She trails off, thinking of all the possibilities. Jon smiles at her like he’s trying not to laugh.

“Whatever you want,” he promises. “But, ah… I think our free time and energy might be even more strapped next year, remember.”

His hand, at her waist, pulls her in tighter so that his fingers brush the side of her stomach, resting on the gentle swell there currently hidden by her sweater. “Oh,” Dany says, almost laughing as she remembers. “Mm, that is a good point.” She smiles at him softly. “That’s crazy to think. Next Halloween, it’ll be the three of us.”

Ghost circles back towards them, rubbing up against their legs before he races ahead again, and Jon chuckles. “Four of us, you mean.” He pauses, considering. “Plus the cats, so… seven, really.” He grins at her. “We’ll end up as the Von Trapps or somethin’ for our costumes.”

Dany laughs. “Oh, gods, Drogon would murder me in my sleep if I forced him into that.”

They fall quiet, continuing ahead on their walk in comfortable silence. “Have you thought about it at all?” Jon asks. “You know. Tellin’ people?”

Dany nods, eyes casting down. She’s four months pregnant now, which means they probably should have told everyone, but still no one knows but Missandei and Margaery— and that wasn’t exactly intentional. “I know,” Dany says, voice quiet. Jon squeezes her hand, and she instantly feels more at ease.

“I know you’re scared,” he says, voice completely free of any judgement. “And it’s up to you, love. I was just wonderin’. Whenever you want, aye?”

She knows he’s been dying to tell his siblings, and has held off because she was terrified of miscarrying again. Once again, she’s struck by just how lucky she is to have such a wonderful man who loves her. “Soon,” she tells him, squeezing his hand. “Maybe right after Halloween. Is that okay?”

Jon smiles at her, and it’s warmer than the morning sunlight, filling her up inside. “Course it is,” he says, ducking down to peck her cheek again. “And you know whatever happens, I’ll always be here.”

Dany smiles, leaning into Jon’s side again. That’s probably why she’s nowhere near as afraid as she’d been at first, when they found out. Why she’s even considering telling people in the first place. No matter what happens, what odds they’re faced with, that knowledge keeps her going.

“I know,” she says, eyes locked on Jon’s. And she means it, with all her heart.

[ ](https://www.flickr.com/photos/146793737@N07/50541575998/in/dateposted-public/)


	17. Chapter 17

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's Thursday so another #tbt one. I did not proofread for continuity and wrote half at lunch and half rn and I am not sure if I like the result or hate it, but the picture was cute, and lbr we're all here for the insta posts anyways.

Jon has been nervous, originally, at the prospect of moving into his friends’ apartment with a wolfdog puppy— not because he was worried about living with Grenn, Pyp, and Sam, but because he didn’t think they  _ truly  _ understood what they were signing up for with Ghost. That first week, he’d been certain that they were on the brink of kicking him out at any given moment, because puppies, while adorable, were exhausting. 

Two months later, those fears have all but disappeared, because it’s beyond clear that his flatmates fucking  _ adore  _ his dog. 

It helps that Ghost is— so far, at least— remarkably well behaved for a wolfdog. Jon had heard plenty of stories in his research of their destructive tendencies, their high energy, their skittishness and hesitancy towards people. But he’s the sweetest puppy, and the most destructive thing he’s done so far is trip Grenn while doing his nightly routine of running circles around the living room. 

“I’m back!” Jon hears Sam’s voice echo down the hall, Ghost standing up from his spot on Jon’s lap, tail wagging as he barks at the newcomer. 

“S’alright, boy,” Jon laughs, looking away from the match on television. Grenn and Pyp look up as well as Sam enters the living room, shopping bags in hand. 

“Did you get food?” Grenn asks, Pyp cackling as Sam gives him a disappointed look. 

“Of course I did,” Sam responds. “Though I don’t know why I keep cooking for you. You’ll never learn on your own this way, you know?” 

“Aye, and I also won’t starve,” Grenn rebuts. “So what’s for dinner, then?” 

Ghost, finally deciding the prospect of greeting Sam is more tempting than continuing to get belly rubs from Jon, leaps off the couch, scrambling over to Sam on his too-big paws. Sometimes Jon looks at him and realizes how fucking massive he’s going to be some day. It’s more than a bit sobering. 

“Hi, Ghost!” Sam says, kneeling down with a wide smile to pet the dog. Ghost basks in the attention, rolling over as his tail wags a mile a minute. “I got something for you too, you know.” 

Jon’s brow furrows. “You did?” he asks. Sam looks almost guilty, reaching into one of the bags. 

“I hope it’s okay, Jon,” he says. “I just saw this walking by the pet aisle and thought it was nice and festive for him.” 

Jon laughs when he sees what it is— a little pet Halloween bandana. He keeps forgetting Halloween is tomorrow— time still moves at a different pace for him, it seems, since he got out of the hospital. 

“Don’t apologize,” Jon says. “Anytime you lot want to get things for him, be my guest. Go ahead, put it on him.” 

“Sit, Ghost, okay?” Sam asks, Pyp standing and ambling over to assist. He holds Ghost’s wiggling body in place as Sam fastens the bandana to his collar. 

“Look at you,” Pyp says, grinning widely. “How’s it possible for somethin’ to be so fuckin’ cute?” Ghost barks, tail wagging as he climbs onto Pyp, licking at his cheek. 

“Wait, wait!” Grenn says. “I… where’s that fuckin’ thing I had yesterday, I want to put it on him.” 

“The antenna?” Jon says with a laugh. Someone at work had given them to Grenn, to get in the ‘holiday spirit.’ “I think they’re over there, by the TV.” 

“Ghost, c’mere!” Grenn says, grabbing the fuzzy green antenna. His dog bounds over, nipping at Grenn’s hand playfully as he tries to put them on Ghost’s head, succeeding with a bit of effort. 

“Oh my gods,” Sam says. “He looks adorable.” Ghost tilts his head to the side, the antenna bouncing, making all of them laugh. 

“Jon,” Pyp says. “You have to put this on his instagram.” 

Jon makes a face. Sure, Rickon had set it up for him before he moved down here, but he hadn’t  _ actually  _ planned on using it. He bloody hates social media. 

“Do I?” he asks. His flatmates, clearly, are not to be swayed. 

“Stop it, you do,” Grenn insists. “People need to see this, trust me.” 

Jon concedes— it’s easier to give in to them sometimes, he knows. Plus, he’e just really grateful they love his dog that much. “Okay, fine,” he says, Ghost following behind him as he goes to the kitchen to grab some treats. “Ghost, sit.” 

Pyp takes out his phone to snap a photo of Ghost, but not even a second later, he’s frowning. “The  _ ambiance  _ is no good here,” he says. “The bloody couch is ruining the picture.” Jon signs, trying not to laugh. 

“Where d’you want him, then?” 

“What about that park across the way?” Pyp says, and Jon’s eyes widen. 

“Wait,  _ what—”  _

His flatmates don’t seem to be talking to him, though, continuing on. “That’s perfect,” Sam says. “With the leaves falling it’ll be great. Jon, where’s his leash?” 

Ghost is running excited circles around all three of them, yipping with excitement. “Really?” Jon asks, almost laughing. “We’re going to go walk across the street for this? It’s just a picture.” 

“What the fuck else do we have goin’ on?” Grenn says. “Gods, Jon, let us have a photoshoot for your dog.” 

Jon grins, because sure, this is absolutely fucking  _ ridiculous,  _ but gods, it feels good to just laugh and do something stupid again after… everything. Maybe he deserves something as trivial as goofing off with his flatmates. 

Ten minutes later they’re in the park, Jon on his knees coaxing Ghost into sit with treats, Sam arranging pumpkins or something behind him, Grenn and Pyp squabbling over the camera. “Stop it,” Grenn says, grabbing at the phone. “Seven hells, Pyp, you’re not even puttin’ him in the middle of the frame.” 

“Well, I can’t do anythin’ right, can I?” he retorts, but he gives Grenn the phone. “Over here, Ghost!” 

“Ghost, look at the camera,” Jon says, and he swears his puppy must understand, because he looks right at Grenn, Pyp waving wildly over his shoulder to keep his attention. 

“That’s it, good boy!” Sam says, Ghost’s attention span finally expiring, and he bounds back to Jon, jumping up onto his chest. One of the antennas practically hits him in the face. 

“Here you go,” Grenn says, handing over the phone as Jon clips Ghost’s leash back on. “Look at these.  _ Gorgeous,  _ if I do say so.” 

“Why don’t you go ahead and become a photographer, then?” Pyp retorts, earning him a shove from Grenn, Sam laughing. 

“Thanks, guys,” Jon says, scrolling through the photos. Ghost races through the fallen leaves on the path ahead, pulling on his leash. “I suppose I will post a few.” 

“You have to, Jon,” Pyp says. “Dogs are a  _ thing  _ on Instagram, y’know? You could become famous or somethin’.” 

Jon laughs, Grenn leaning over to ruffle Ghost’s ears as the four of them walk back along the path. 

“Maybe when all seven hells freeze over,” Jon says. “I don’t even know how to work Instagram.  _ Famous  _ on it, please.” 

[ ](https://www.flickr.com/photos/146793737@N07/50546333642/in/dateposted-public/)


	18. Chapter 18

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m a lil late to this one so it’s KIND of Halloween but mostly fall themed lol. Meant to get this up on Friday but then was crazy busy. I hope you enjoy!! (Also I promise I'll answer comments on the other chapters soon I'M SORRY I'M THE WORST AT THAT)

“Okay, okay, I think this is the one.” 

Jon bites back a laugh, sharing a look with Dany next to him. Margaery’s been deliberating over bandanas for the past ten minutes, Sansa keeping Ghost and Lady occupied while she considers her options. 

“You sure?” Dany teases, Margaery glaring at her. 

“Don’t make fun,” Margaery says. “We’re announcing the launch of Ghost’s new line that Jon’s been working on for a _year._ Don’t you want the photos to be perfect?” 

“I trust you completely, Margaery,” Jon assures her. “Whatever you think is best.” 

_“Thank_ you,” Margaery says, grinning victoriously at Dany again. He doesn’t exactly see how what color bandana Ghost is wearing matters, but he knows this is what Margaery is best at, so he’s ready to listen to whatever she says. 

“Is it strange that it’s finally coming out?” Sansa asks, still stroking Ghost’s ears in an attempt from keeping him and Lady distracted from any urges they might have to go running through the dirt before their photoshoot. “Everything you put into it, all the work and research and testing-- and now people are going to be able to buy it all.” 

“It is sort of strange,” Jon admits. When it had all been conceptual, talking to Margaery and the product design team, working to come up with ideas for things that would help pet owners go explore the world together, it hadn’t quite seemed real. And then the samples had come in, leads and traffic handles, outdoor pet blankets and dog water bottles, bandanas and collars and nametags-- all the things they’d come up with during development. It had been otherworldly to hold those tangible things in his hands, see Ghost’s name embossed on them next to the Tyrell logo. 

“I hope it makes peoples’ lives better,” Jon says. “Inspires them to get out there. Maybe gives them the tools they need to take that leap.” 

Dany smiles softly, tucking herself into his side. “I think it will,” she says, and he grins at her, kissing her forehead quickly. (He’d _properly_ kiss her, but he doesn’t really want to deal with his sister’s teasing.) 

“Alright, yes, my mind is made up,” Margaery says, holding up a black and red checked bandana. “This one. And then the thin tawny lead, with the traffic handle. It’ll look good with the orange of the pumpkins.” 

“After we take these pictures, we _do_ get to pick out pumpkins for real, right?” Sansa asks her girlfriend. Margaery nods. 

“Of course. Why do you think I requested the entire afternoon off for Daenerys and me?” 

“I’ll take it,” Dany says with a grin. “This is _way_ better than dealing with whatever meltdown Loras is having about the quarter financials.” 

“He’s being dramatic, I guarantee it,” Margaery says. “He’s just bitter because he and Renly are back at the off-again part of on-again, off-again.” She holds out the bandana she’d selected, eyes falling to Jon. “Can you...?” 

“Aye,” he says. “Ghost, c’mere.” 

His dog bounds over to him, licking his face when he kneels in front of him. “You ready for another photoshoot?” Jon asks him, grinning at Ghost’s wide smile as he takes the bandana from Margaery. Ghost offers him a paw, making Jon chuckle. “No, boy, just stay still.” 

“Jon doesn’t have to be in this one, right?” Dany asks Margaery, who shakes her head. 

“Nope, this is just Ghost. Why I said I’d do it myself, instead of bringing in a crew.” 

“Well, that’s good,” Dany says, Jon looking back at her now that Ghost’s bandana is secured. “I didn’t do my makeup this morning with the intentions of being in a photoshoot.” 

“Y’know, I’ve gotten a lot better,” he says defensively, clipping on Ghost’s leash. Sansa laughs, Margaery trying to fight back a smile as well. 

“Sure you have, Jon,” Sansa says, scratching Lady’s ears as they start off towards the pumpkin patch. Dany falls into step next to him, taking the hand that isn’t holding Ghost. 

“I was just kidding, you know,” she says. “You have gotten... a little better.” 

Jon laughs, squeezing her hand. “Mm. That sounds very convincing.” 

She looks up at him, her eyes shining, that little grin pulling at her lips. “I love you?” she says, and Jon tries not to laugh. 

“Alright, you’re forgiven,” he jokes, Dany grinning wider as she leans closer into his side. Margaery and Sansa are ahead of them, eyes on Lady and the sprawling pumpkin patch before them, so this time, when Jon ducks his head down to hers, he doesn’t feel guilty for kissing her properly. 

[ ](https://www.flickr.com/photos/146793737@N07/50556611482/in/dateposted-public/)


	19. Chapter 19

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 18, Well, that's tragic. 
> 
> This one's for Aiea3414 who gave me this hilarious prompt. This is the longest and DEFINITELY crackiest drabble I've written but I loved it. It's helping distract me from this shitshow of waiting for election results so hey that's worth something right? 
> 
> Enjoy!!

“You ready to go?” 

Jon looks up from his nearly-packed duffle bag just as Dany reenters the room, wet hair down her back and wrapped in a towel. “Almost,” he says, considering whether or not he can fit one more pullover in there. Although, well— does he really need it, if Dany won’t be there to steal the one he usually brings? 

“When do you leave again? An hour or so?” Jon nods, Dany rifling through her own suitcase as she looks for clothes. 

“That’s if Bran and Rickon have actually managed to pack, of course,” he says. Dany laughs, pulling a hair brush through her long waves. Robb had had the idea a few months back for them to reinstate their brother-camping-trip this summer when they all went back to Winterfell, like they used to back when they were younger and Ned would take them. Jon’s excited, but he also can’t help the feeling that the weekend can only end in disaster. 

“You sure you’re going to be alright?” Jon asks, frowning at her. “I still feel bad, leavin’ you here all alone with my aunt this weekend.” 

Dany rolls her eyes. “Please. I have Sansa and Arya and Talisa; I’ll be fine. And you know Catelyn will still be too distracted by Ben to hate me  _ too  _ much.” 

Jon chuckles. “Aye, that’s true, I suppose.” He exhales, surveying the bag in front of him as Dany unwraps the towel around her to change. “Okay, I think I’m good—” 

His sentence is cut off by the door banging open, Rickon standing there. “Jon, d’you have a—” he says, before his words die in his mouth, anything else he was about to say drowned out by the sound of Dany’s shocked yelp. 

Jon whirls around, suddenly realizing that his little brother is staring, slack jawed, at his naked girlfriend. 

“Rickon, what the fuck!” Jon says, his brother grabbing the door handle and yanking it closed again, leaving him and Dany alone. She’s scrambling for her towel, hastily wrapping it around herself as she blinks in confusion. 

“Hold on,” Jon mutters, making sure Dany is covered again before opening the door, following the quickly retreating footsteps of his brother. “Rickon, get back here!” 

“Help!” Rickon yelps, Jon gaining on him as he reaches the bottom of the stairs, tearing around the corner. “Robb, help me!” 

“What in seven hells is happenin’?” Robb says as Jon bursts into the kitchen after Rickon, their youngest brother cowering behind Robb as he looks up from the cooler he was packing in bewildered confusion. “Rickon, knock it off, it’s too early in the morning for this.” 

“You’re just saying that because you have an eight month old and you never sleep anymore,” Bran reasons, hauling dog food from the cupboard to the island. Robb glares at him, before his eyes turn back to their cowering brother. 

“Jon’s going to kill me!” Rickon declares. “He’s going to drag me off into the woods and leave my body for the bears!” 

“What bears, you idiot?” Bran snickers. Robb shakes his head, looking even more confused. 

“Have you ever heard of  _ knocking?”  _ Jon demands, eyes narrowing at Rickon. “What the fuck is wrong with you, burstin’ into people’s rooms at seven in the morning?” 

“I couldn’t find my hiking socks!” Rickon wails. “And I know you have loads from Tyrell so I wanted some! I didn’t know Dany was going to be  _ fucking naked!”  _

Understanding dawns on Robb’s face at the same time that Bran bursts into laughter, doubling over. “So, let me just make sure I understand here,” Robb says, shaking his head. “You burst into Jon’s room, to which the door was closed, and saw his girlfriend naked,” Robb says. “Is that it?” 

Rickon nods, still refusing to meet Jon’s eyes. His cheeks are still red as Sansa’s hair, gaze darting nervously around the room. 

“Well, that’s tragic,” Robb says. “It’s been nice knowin’ you, Rickon. Maybe you should use the time before Jon murders you to learn how to fuckin’ knock on a door.” 

“How was I supposed to know she’d be changing?!” Rickon yelps. 

“You would have if you’d  _ asked before comin’ in!”  _ Jon huffs. “What the bloody hell were you thinkin’?” 

“Hey,” Dany says, appearing behind them— mercifully, fully dressed this time, with Jon’s bag slung over her shoulder. “What’s going on?” 

“Daenerys, I’m so sorry!” Rickon says, eyes wide, cheeks growing even redder. He’s still half hidden behind Robb, running a hand through his hair agitatedly. It makes his mop of curls even messier. “I didn’t know—” 

“Mm, but you would have if you  _ knocked,”  _ she responds primly. Rickon gulps, but Jon can see that glimmer of light in her eyes that tells him she’s not really mad. 

“Alright, enough,” Robb says. “We have to get on the road. Rickon, go get everyone’s things in the car. Try not to catch anyone without their clothes on in the process.” 

He scrambles out of the kitchen, cheeks still burning furiously, Bran laughing as he follows behind with the dogs’ things. “Hey,” Jon murmurs, catching Dany by the waist. “Gods, I’m sorry about him. You alright?” 

“Of course,” she says, trying to fight back a smile and failing. “Honestly, I think Rickon’s the one more emotionally scarred. You should have seen his face when he realized  _ you  _ realized what was happening.” 

“Fuckin’ idiot,” Jon grumbles, but he leans down to kiss Dany goodbye anyways. Three days without her— is it bad he already wishes this weekend was over? 

“Have fun on your trip,” Dany whispers. “And don’t  _ actually  _ murder your brother.” 

“No promises,” Jon teases. “I love you.” 

“Love you too,” she says, giving him one last kiss, a squeeze of the hand, before she hands over his duffle. “See you on Tuesday.” 

The cars are mostly packed when Jon gets out to the drive, all four of the dogs circling them and barking their heads off as they finish loading the rest of their things into the car. “Alright,” Robb says, nodding. “I think we’re ready to go. Who wants to ride with who—” 

“I’m with Robb!” Rickon says, practically leaping at the opportunity. “I call Robb!” 

“Rickon,” Jon says with a roll of his eyes. “I’m not really goin’ to murder you.” 

“That’s what you say!” Rickon exclaims. “And then next thing you know the police are findin’ a body bag at the bottom of the river with my name on it!” 

“Oh, for fuck’s sake,” Robb grumbles. “Can we just get the dogs in the car and go?” 

The drive is uneventful, with Bran next to him— Jon listens to his brother speak about all his classes, the two of them chatting amiably the whole way up. Jon almost forgets about the incident of this morning until they’re at the campsite, and Rickon  _ still  _ won’t make eye contact with him. The whole time they’re setting up camp, pitching tents, Robb getting a fire going as Bran watches the dogs race around, his youngest brother turns scarlet every time he catches sight of him, running in the other direction. 

“Rickon,” Jon finally says as they all make dinner, the dogs gathered together in a pigpile as they nap, tired out from the afternoon hike they took. “Could we please just move past this? The weekend’s going to be insufferable if not.” 

“How am I supposed to forget when you’re actively plannin’ to leave me in the woods for dead?” he demands. Jon sighs, scrubbing at his face with his hand. 

“I think the real issue here,” Bran teases, “is that Rickon doesn’t  _ want  _ to forget what he saw, and it’s makin’ it hard to look at  _ you  _ in exchange.” 

“Oh, does Rickon have a  _ crush?”  _ Robb teases, and their youngest brother’s cheeks turn even darker red as he’s left spluttering for words. “Tell us, was that the first time you ever saw a girl naked?” 

“Fuck you, Robb, of course not!” he retorts, arms flailing wildly. “And I don’t have a crush on Jon’s girlfriend, even if she is really hot!” He seems to catch himself a moment too late, eyes going wide with dread.  _ “Fuck!  _ I didn’t mean that!” 

“Mm, I think you did,” Bran says. Honestly, at this point, any aggravation Jon had had is pretty much gone— Dany is fine, which is what he really cares about, even if his brother has no fucking manners. He laughs, tipping his head back as Rickon looks like he’d rather die than be here any longer. 

“Quit while you’re ahead, brother,” Robb says, slapping Rickon’s shoulder. “Not that you’re really ahead now, of course.” 

“I didn’t mean it, Jon,” Rickon begs. “Please don’t drag me out to the woods and plot my death.” 

Jon laughs, ruffling his brother’s hair. “I’m not going to murder you,” he promises, and Rickon sighs, seeming to relax a little bit. “But if you  _ ever  _ forget to knock and barge into our room again, I’m not responsible for Dany’s actions.” 

Rickon nods, Robb cackling as he pokes the fire. “Trust me, she seems like the one you need to be more scared of anyways,” he says. Jon laughs, his youngest brother’s cheeks turning red again. 

“Aye,” Jon says with a nod. “She certainly is.” 

[ ](https://www.flickr.com/photos/146793737@N07/50568594231/in/dateposted-public/)


	20. Chapter 20

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 14\. “Just get home as soon as possible, okay?!”
> 
> I know I've taken quite a break on these but I plan on finishing up all the requests I still have after Christmas (as I am still scrambling to get Christmas fics done, lol.) Also brief survey but I'm TYING to go through all my comments and like... is it weird if I answer the ones on the last chapter of WTWTA now? You know, the ones I've been sitting on since May?

Jon is about halfway through grocery shopping when his phone starts ringing. 

His brow furrows as Dany’s picture fills his screen, picking up and propping it between his shoulder and his ear as he continues down the aisle, searching for Aly’s favorite apple juice brand. 

“Dany?” he says, brow furrowing. “What’s up? Did you forget to put somethin’ on the list?” 

“Uh, no, not exactly,” she says, and immediately his heart speeds up at the amount of nervous energy in her voice. “We had... there’s been an incident.” He can hear Alysanne yelling in the background, and... running water? 

His stomach drops. “An _incident?”_ he says. “What happened? Are you okay? Are the kids okay?” A million horrific images flash before his eyes, and he feels like he’s drowning all of a sudden, the scars on his chest aching more than they have in years. 

“Yes, yes, we’re all fine,” she assures him, like she can sense how nervous he’s suddenly become. Ghost’s barks echo through the phone, followed by the baby’s cries. “Well, technically.” 

“Dany, what happened?” he begs, so bloody confused that he can’t stand it anymore. 

She exhales sharply. “Aly dyed her hair blue,” she finally bursts out, and Jon just stands there, blinking. 

“Oh, fuckin’ hells,” he grumbles. “That girl, I swear to the gods--” 

“I left her alone for _two minutes_ so I could nurse Torrhen, and the next thing I knew she and Ghost were shut up in the toy room together and she had markers _everywhere_ and half her head is blue now,” Dany says, all in one big rush. “And now I’m trying to get her in the bath to wash it out, but Ghost got all riled up and the baby is crying and I... just get home as soon as possible, okay?” 

“Of course,” Jon says, grabbing the jug of apple juice and quickly surveying the list. Whatever, he’ll just go out again later. “I’ll be home in a few minutes, alright? Just hang on.” 

Jon flies through self checkout at rapidfire pace, pushing the speed limit the entire drive home. He leaves the groceries in the car (seeing as he hadn’t even gotten to the dairy section yet before Dany called), throwing the door open to reveal the chaos beyond. 

Ghost runs up to him, barking like mad, and Jon can still hear Aly’s wails and Torrhen’s cries from down the hall. One problem at a time, though. “Ghost, place,” he says, giving his dog a look. Ghost pouts, but he dutifully bounds over to his bed, laying down and resting his head on his paws. “Good boy,” Jon says, giving him a bone to entertain him. “Stay there, now, alright?” 

He finds Dany in the bathroom, a very upset Alysanne in the tub with half her hair still a shocking shade of blue. “Daddy!” she cries when she sees him, Dany turning around and sighing in relief, her shoulders visibly sagging. 

“Help,” she says desperately, eyes wide and overwhelmed. 

“Did you finish nursing Torrhen?” he asks, and she shakes her head. “Go take care of him, alright? I’ll clean Aly up.” 

“Okay,” she says, the relief in her expression clear. “Thank you, Jon.” 

He shakes his head, shooing her from the bathroom and rolling up his sleeves as he kneels next to the tub. “Aly, sweetheart, why’d you color your hair?” he asks. She looks up at him with her big brown eyes, as if he’s posed the most ridiculous question ever to exist. 

“We played hairdresser!” she says. “Ghost was next.” 

“Mm, I think Ghost’s fur should stay white,” he says, grabbing the shampoo. “And yours should stay silver, love. When you’re older you can get it dyed, hmm?” 

Alysanne is very put off by his answer, but she lets him wash her hair all the same. Luckily whatever markers she used seem to be only semi-permanent, because with some very intense shampooing, her hair is almost back to normal, just the slightest tint of blue left to it. As soon as she’s cleaned up and dried off, back in clean clothes, Jon plops her in front of the television, trusting that her favorite show will distract her enough where he can go check on Dany. 

He finds his wife in the nursery, Torrhen still held to her chest as he dozes. “Hey,” he says, leaning over to drop a kiss on the top of her head. “You alright?” 

Dany looks up, and he’s thankful to see she doesn’t look _quite_ as overwhelmed anymore. “Yes,” she says. Her fingers stroke over Torrhen’s downy curls instinctively. “How’s Aly?” 

“She’s fine. Hair is mostly back to normal, much to her dismay. She’s watchin’ TV now.” 

“Thank the gods I noticed before she got to Ghost,” Dany says, shaking her head. “I don’t know how you do it, all day with both of them. And the animals.” 

He shrugs, because he loves being a stay-at-home dad, but it’s definitely an exhausting rollercoaster day to day. It’s worth it though, absolutely. He never really thought he’d get this life he has with Dany now, and even with all the crazy things their children or pets do, he wouldn’t trade it for the world. 

“Jon,” she says, and her voice is softer, more nervous. It’s such a change from how Dany usually seems-- fearless, determined, ready to take on the world. She exhales, glancing up at him through her lashes. “Am I a terrible mother?” 

He can’t help it, he laughs. “What?” he says, shaking his head. “You’re joking, right?” Dany pulls a face at him, glancing down at Torrhen again. 

“I didn’t even realize what was happening until it was too late, I was so distracted with him,” she says, nodding towards the baby. “And you’re just... so _good_ at all this. And I’m always at work.” 

“Hey, hey,” Jon says, brow furrowing. “First off, that’s _not_ true. I’m not nearly as good at this as you think. All I do all day is chase them around and try to put out fires.” Dany chuckles, and his heart lightens, glad to have made her smile a bit. 

“And you work much more normal hours now. Remember when we first met? You’d work all weekend long, and till eight or nine at night. I can’t even remember the last time I saw you take out your laptop at home.” He pauses. “Besides, you love your job as well. You shouldn’t feel guilty for that just because you can’t be home every minute of the day.” He kisses her forehead again, and he can feel her relax. “Our children love you more than anything, Dany. Trust me. You’re a wonderful mother.” 

“Even if I can’t stop our daughter from dyeing her hair blue?” she asks, but Jon smiles, because he can tell she’s joking now. 

“Love, I don’t think _either_ of us could have stopped her,” he says. “Where do you think she inherited that determination from? The same person who talked me into becoming an _Instagram influencer.”_

“Mm,” Dany says, her smile back to that bright, happy thing that Jon loves more than anything. “I suppose you’re right.” She stands up, Torrhen still cradled to her chest. “Come on, then. We best go make sure she doesn’t try to dye Ghost green next.” 


	21. Chapter 21

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 3\. Kiss on the nose
> 
> I had a snow day (kinda) today so this seemed appropriate, haha.

Ned Stark had been right, when he’d told Dany the cold in September was nothing compared to true winter in the North. 

She’d wondered how it could possibly get  _ colder,  _ but she sees now that the weather during the photoshoot was practically balmy compared to this. 

Her boyfriend, of course, has the nerve to look unperturbed. 

He glances over at her again, a smile creeping at his lips when he sees how badly she’s shivering. “You alright?” he teases, though he  _ clearly  _ knows the answer. 

“Why does  _ anyone live here?”  _ she demands, and he laughs, deep and wholeheartedly. The sound warms her up, but just a bit. 

“Seriously, Jon,” she says, teeth chattering, but there’s a smile on her face, because he’s looking at her in a way that is so soft and endearing, she can’t help it, and her heart is fluttering in that way only he can make it do. “I’m wearing three pairs of socks.  _ Two pairs of pants.  _ And I am still cold.” 

“You were the one who wanted to come with me on this trip, you know,” he says, arching an eyebrow at her. He’s not even wearing a  _ hat,  _ the bastard. 

“I wanted to see it snow again,” she says. “I didn’t want to lose my toes to exposure.” 

In front of them, Ghost hops through the snow— which there is easily a foot of, if not more— like this is the best thing that’s ever happened to him. Dany simply doesn’t understand. Sure, the rolling snow-covered fields of Winterfell visible from the Starks’ expansive property are  _ breathtakingly  _ beautiful, but she might have to take them in from inside in the heat for the rest of the long weekend. 

Of course, that also means the possibility of running into Catelyn, so maybe the outside is better. 

“I guess we can’t ever go see the Frostfangs then,” Jon says, shrugging. Dany pouts, and he laughs again, pulling her into his arms. She can’t actually feel his body heat through all their layers, but his solid figure blocks her from the chilly wind, and that helps tremendously. 

“But—” she says, because she wants to see those too, someday. She wants to see  _ everything  _ with Jon, she’s found. Exploring the world with him is all she wants to do for the rest of time. 

“I’ll get a thicker coat,” she says. “And another pair of socks.” She shrugs. “And then you’ll just have to listen to me complain the whole time.” 

He laughs, hugging her tighter. “That seems fair.” 

Ghost barks with delight, nosediving into the snow and then rolling around, legs flailing as he attempts to make snow angels, it seems. His white fur is full of fresh powder, but he seems beyond delighted. 

“How does this not bother him?” Dany demands. “Isn’t he freezing?” 

“No,” Jon says with a shrug. “He loves the snow. Always has. It’s the husky and malamute in him. And his fur keeps him warm.” 

“You should design a coat with Tyrell that’s as warm as his fur, then,” Dany says. “I’ll call up Margaery once we go back inside and my fingers regain feeling.” 

“Oh, seven hells, don’t get her started,” he says, blanching. “We just finished everythin’ for the winter line. At least give me a little time before she pounces on me again.” 

Dany laughs, snuggling into his chest. Mm, she decides, the cold  _ definitely  _ isn’t as bad when he holds her. 

“So,” Jon says, gloved hands smoothing over her arms. “You regretting your decision to take the long weekend off and follow me up here?” She can tell he’s joking, mostly, but there’s still that hint of uncertainty in his voice. She turns in his arms so she’s facing him, fixing him with a look. 

Dany gets it, though. It’s difficult unlearning so many years of isolating herself, protecting her heart with iron walls. But with Jon— well, it’s becoming easier and easier, every single day. 

“Never,” she tells him. “Even if I’m freezing my bloody arse off.” 

He smiles at her, eyes crinkling, ducking down to kiss her freezing nose. She laughs, sure that he can’t see the blush on her cheeks because her face is already ruddy and red from the icy wind. 

“I couldn’t even feel that,” she tells him, and he grins at her before bowing his head towards her again, foreheads resting together. 

“How about this?” he murmurs, before kissing her for real, lips warm against her own freezing ones. 

Dany grins into his mouth, arms winding around him. “Mm,” she hums, her icy nose nudging his before she kisses him again. “Much better.” 

***

[ ](https://www.flickr.com/photos/146793737@N07/50731546242/in/dateposted-public/)


	22. Chapter 22

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> IHaveanArmada requested more drunk!Marge causing mayhem on instagram, so here y'all go. :) (and yes I'm still working on ch6 of BICBTY it'll be DONE EVENTUALLY I PROMISE)

Dany knows, as soon as she gets the push notification, that they’re in trouble. 

“Oh, gods,” she says, opening up Instagram to look at the new comment on the picture she’d posted. Sansa had taken it for them a bit ago, after Dany had finally finished schmoozing with the company bigwigs and had escaped their grasps to spend the rest of the night on the dance floor with Jon. They look _adorable,_ she personally thinks, wrapped up in each other on the edge of a sea of people. 

“What is it?” Jon asks, peering down at her screen. His fingers are still splayed across the small of her back, thumb stroking over the thin fabric of her dress. Dany sighs, offering him her phone so he can see for himself. 

There’s a new comment on her photo, from the Tyrell official account. A comment that a drunk Margaery _definitely_ left, based on the number of exclamation points. 

“Have you seen Margaery?” Sansa asks, looking panicked as she appears before them. “I can’t find her _anywhere.”_

Jon looks up from Dany’s phone, brow furrowed. “Wasn’t she just here?” he asks. “I saw her when I went to the bar to get more drinks.” 

“That wasn’t that long ago,” Dany says, holding up her still-full glass. “She didn’t come back and find you after?” 

“I think she’s hiding from me,” Sansa says, fiddling with the end of her fishtail. Jon gives his sister a bewildered look. 

“Why would she do that?” 

Sansa sighs. “Because I took her phone away,” she says. Jon looks even more confused, but Dany remembers the comment on her post, and the puzzle pieces fall into place. She bursts out laughing. 

“I had to! For the good of the company!” Sansa defends. “She kept trying to post photos of me on Tyrell’s story, and I tried to tell her that _wasn’t_ a good idea, but, well—” 

“She’s drunk off her arse,” Dany says, still giggling. The alcohol running through _her_ system is making this even more hilarious. “When did you take her phone away?” 

“Almost twenty minutes ago,” Sansa says. “I thought she’d forgotten, really. We were going to go dance now that she doesn’t have to talk to people anymore.” 

“Wait,” Dany says, brow furrowing. “But she _just_ commented on my post. Or, well, Tyrell did. But I know Loras disappeared with Renly an hour ago, and Margaery’s interns are too terrified of her to post drunk on the company account.” 

At that, Dany notices that Jon is cringing, his handsome face marred with guilt. Sansa, too, picks up on her brother’s expression. “Jon,” she says, hands on her hips. “What did you _do?”_

“I didn’t mean to!” he defends, brows raised. “But, well, when I saw her at the bar, she told me her phone died, and that she couldn’t keep up with her social media duties, so—” 

“Jon, you _bloody idiot!”_ Sansa practically screeches. “You did _not_ give her your phone!” 

“What was I supposed to do?!” he retorts. “She’s practically my boss!” 

“Oh, Jon,” Dany says, overcome with giggles. If she was more sober, this would probably be a bit more dire— gods know what an intoxicated Margaery is posting on their corporate account. 

“I’m sorry,” he says to her, defeated, but Dany can’t stop smiling, and soon he’s smiling too, her joy contagious. She nuzzles herself into his side, his hand tightening on her waist. 

“Sansa!” they hear, and all of them turn to see Margaery moving towards them, surprisingly steady in her heels for someone who’s had as much to drink as she has. 

“Oh, others take me, _there_ you are!” Sansa says, relief washing over her face. “Where have you been?!” 

“Just over there,” Margaery says with a shrug, nodding towards the bar. “I needed a drink!” 

Sansa laughs at her, her aggravation from a moment before melted away in the presence of her girlfriend. Dany smiles, watching the two of them. “And Jon’s phone, hmm?” 

Margaery turns to Jon, eyes wide with betrayal. “Jon! You were supposed to keep that a _secret!”_

He huffs in laughter, and Dany leans in closer to him, grinning. “You were supposed to be _workin’,”_ he responds. “Not hacking back into the Tyrell account.” 

“Sansa, don’t be mad,” Margaery begs, pouting at the other woman. “I just wanted to check! I didn’t even do anything.” 

“You commented on my photo,” Dany says, arching an eyebrow at her friend. “From Tyrell’s account.” 

Margaery tilts her head to the side. “Fuck, did I? I could have sworn that was from mine.” 

Sansa laughs again, taking her girlfriend’s hand. “Come on, love. Give Jon his phone back, and then let’s go dance. I think your social media duties have been fulfilled for the night.” 

Margaery scoffs, but she hands the phone back to Jon anyways, who slips it into the pocket of his suit jacket. “My social media duties are _never_ done,” Margaery tells her. “Besides. I don’t know why you took it away in the first place! I just wanted everyone to see how pretty you look.” Her smile gets dreamy, and she leans in closer to Sansa. “You look _so_ pretty tonight, you know?” 

“I know,” Sansa says, ducking her head so their foreheads are resting together. “You’ve told me _many_ times. You look beautiful too, for the record.” 

Margaery beams, rising up on her tiptoes to kiss Sansa quickly. “Gods, I love you,” she tells her. “I can’t wait till this bloody thing is over so I can get you home and _finally_ take off that dress—” 

“Oh, fucking hells,” Jon says, face twisted in disgust. “Alright, are we dancin’, or? If not I need another drink.” 

“Yes! Let’s dance,” Margaery says, bouncing with excitement. Dany laughs too, her friend’s joy contagious. Jon still looks mildly nauseous. 

Margaery grabs Sansa’s hand and drags her off onto the dance floor, both of them grinning at each other like lunatics. Jon chuckles, squeezing Dany tighter. 

“I’m not really sure I want to follow them,” he admits, and Dany laughs again. 

“What, you don’t like hearing about your, for all intents and purposes, boss’s sex life with your sister?” she teases. Jon blanches again. 

“Absolutely not,” he says. “I’m glad they’re so happy, but I draw the line there.” 

“Mm,” Dany says, rising on tiptoes to drag her lips across the shell of his ear. “Well, I can think of some things that might distract you from that particular train of thought,” she says, grinning at the way his fingers dig into her waist, pulling her closer. 

“Is that so?” Jon teases, his voice husky. “Such as?” 

“Well,” Dany whispers, fingers dragging down his chest, catching momentarily in his belt. “Why don’t you think about taking _my_ dress off instead?” 

Jon laughs, and when his eyes meet hers, they’re molten. 

“That,” he says, “I think I can do.”

[ ](https://www.flickr.com/photos/146793737@N07/50878851338/in/dateposted-public/)


End file.
